


The Story of Days Gone

by qwertyuioplmm



Category: Days Gone (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-09
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-15 14:40:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29934930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/qwertyuioplmm/pseuds/qwertyuioplmm
Summary: For when you want to play the game but don't have time to (but do have time to read a long-ass fic).Follow Deacon through all the main story missions, starting with Chasing Leon. Fall back in love with the game and journey through all the highs and lows Farewell, Oregon has to offer.
Relationships: Deacon St. John/Sarah Whitaker
Comments: 10
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is an entirely self indulgent fic. I decided, hey why don't I play Day's Gone again, even though I literally just finished it like two months ago. Then I decided I was going to play the game from start to finish while meticulously writing down all the important dialogue and adding a few artistic descriptions to supplement it so that next time this happens I can just go back and read the fic rather than sinking a gagillion hours into playing the game. 
> 
> Even if you haven't played the game you should be able to get the general gist. Things start out hella confusing at the beginning, but that's just kind of how the game goes anyway. Things get revealed as we go. If you have specific questions though, feel free to leave a comment.
> 
> Regardless, enjoy. 
> 
> Idk if anyone even reads/writes for Day's Gone since it's nearly two years old now and wasn't a hugely popular game to begin with but I love it, so here I am.

She’s bloody and beaten as Deacon and Boozer park their bikes at the cemetery’s entrance. They’d lost Leon for now, but they’ve found his wreckage. She coughs, and Boozer runs to her side.

“Shit she’s alive. Alvarez, what happened here? Who did this? Was it Rippers?”

Alvarez is short with her reply, breathing it out with her last breath, “Leon… did this.”

She slumps over, dead, and all Deacon and Boozer can do is look at each other for a moment at Alvarez’s statement.

Deek’s whisper of “Fucking Leon” is almost drowned out by the drone of a bike engine riding past. Both men know exactly who it is, and neither needs more than a second before springing into action, hopping on their bikes and chasing down the man who did this. 

Leon’s bike is fast, but what makes the chase more treacherous is the fact that he’s armed. He lets loose a few rounds from his handgun as Deek and Boozer catch up to him, causing them to swerve to avoid the flying bullets. It keeps them at a safe distance.

Next in Leon’s arsenal are molotovs. They explode in fiery balls as they hit the pavement, neatly blocking a portion of the road for the two Mongrels. Still, Boozer and Deacon manage to skirt each one he throws. They’re a deterrent enough for Leon to rush ahead and disappear into the woods, bike discarded haphazardly on the side of the road. 

He apparently didn’t go far, as Deacon and Boozer find themselves under fire as they roll up to Leon’s last known location. They take cover behind their bikes as three shots ring out.

“Cover me,” Deacon says when the bullets stop.

“Right behind ya,” is Boozer’s fearless answer.

A loud blast from Boozer’s shotgun is all it takes for the pair to make it to the treeline. There’s no sign of Leon, and no more shots to indicate where he ran to. Deacon crouches, investigating some marks on the ground.

“He went that way.”

As the two track Leon through the woods, they wonder how Leon even got himself into this situation.

“Leon’s been fencing shit to Cope for a long time. Now, it’s finally caught up with him,” Deek says.

They come to a fork in the road and are at a loss for a moment, needing to pause their hunt to find a clue as to what path Leon took. Deek quickly finds some tracks in the soil. They lead down the path to the right.

“Yeah, yeah, he went this way.”

Deek is impressed with his own tracking skills, feeling confident about Leon’s location. He learned from Boozer after things went to shit, though he isn’t quite sure where Boozer learned.

“Where’d you learn to track shit anyways?”

“I learned from my old man. We used to go elk hunting. Had to track shit for miles. He taught me good, so don’t worry, your tracking skills are just fine.”

They come to a small clearing. Some tents scatter the area, but there isn’t anyone inhabiting them. Not a whole lot of people out in the shit anymore. 

A lone shot rings out, and Deacon stumbles. His shoulder feels like it’s been torn in two, a long gash splitting his skin on his upper arm. It bleeds, but Deek can tell it isn’t deep.

“Shit Deek, get down!” Boozer calls, and each man finds some cover behind the tents and debris left at the site. 

Not a moment later do they hear the telltale click of a gun that means it’s out of bullets. Knowing it’s safe, they jump out of cover and aim at Leon as he turns and runs down a broken path. Boozer’s shotgun is a powerful thing, and much of its spray finds its target. Leon is majorly wounded as he disappears around a bend. At least he’ll be easy to track now. 

“You okay, brother?” Boozer asks as they run.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah it’s just a graze. Son of a bitch can’t aim worth a damn. I’m fine Boozer.”

There’s another split in the path, but the blood on the fence clearly indicates which way Leon has gone.

“C’mon he’s headed towards the falls,” Deek says, hopping the fence.

“He’s losing a lot of blood, he won’t get very far,” Boozer adds. It’s a small victory for them.

They find Leon on his knees, blood pouring from his stomach. After a quick search which finds nothing on Leon, Deacon decides it’s time to figure out just what the hell had made everything go sideways.

“Bleeding out? That’s a hell of a way to go. It’s slow. Painful. But I suppose you know all about that huh, Leon?

“She was still breathing when we found her, you piece of shit,” Boozer adds, the venom in his voice a stark contrast to his usual tone.

“I wasn’t gonna waste a bullet, man. Not on her.”

Boozer goes to crack him on the head with his shotgun in retaliation for his comment, but Deacon holds up a hand to stop him. 

“Hold on a second. Where’s the stash Leon? If you tell us I can promise you we’ll make it quick.”

A distant cry of a Freak rings out across the falls.

Deacon continues his assault. Dipping his fingers into Leon’s pooling blood, he says, “Doesn’t look like you’ll be suffering for long. You see Leon you have a bit of a problem here, you see. They can smell your blood, all the way from down there. What do you suppose that feels like? Torn apart, eaten alive?”

“Guess he’s gonna find out,” Boozer whispers into Leon’s ear.

“Fuck you.”

Deacon is tired of playing games. If Leon won’t give up the stash’s location he is more than prepared to let the Freaks deal with him. “Goodbye Leon.”

Neither him nor Boozer make it two steps before Leon starts talking.

“No no, wait wait, alright I have it. It’s right here,” he says, producing a worn piece of paper with information about the stash’s location. The location itself is still missing though.

“Where?” Deacon asks, putting on an intimidating tone.

“It’s -- it’s in the cemetery, the old cemetery.”

“Thank you.” Deacon moves away, meaning to leave Leon for the Freaks for what he’s done today.

“No you said!!!” Leon is desperate, that much is clear in his voice. He knows this is his end, but he is desperate to not have it be the Freaks that finally do him in.

Deacon rounds on him, pulling his handgun out and leveling it at Leon’s head.

“Do it. Don’t leave me out here, man.”

Deacon regards him, cocking his head at the men begging for death. He’s killed plenty of people in the two years since the world went to hell. Leon is the first one he wants to leave alive. The sick satisfaction of knowing he had a terrible end at the hands of the Freaks would be a fitting ending to this situation. But it’s that thought that shakes Deacon. Has the world really made him that deranged that he wants to leave murdering bastards to the Freaks now?

Boozer looks at Deek, the silent  _ what are you doing man _ is unspoken but clear on his face.

“You goddamn liar do it!” Leon shouts. “Do it.”

His last two words are a plea. One that Deacon obliges, pulling the trigger and splattering Leon’s brains across the forest floor. He crumples in a heap and his baseball hat slumps off his mangled head.

Boozer picks up the green hat, stained a muddy red and pushes it to Deacon’s chest.

“Tuck’s gonna need something for the bounty.” The two start walking back the way they came, the worst of today hopefully behind them. “You did the right thing bro, don’t wanna leave anyone to the freaks. Not even a piece of shit like Leon.”

It’s raining as they reach the small camp, stopping a moment for Deacon to look around for any supplies he needs to bandage his arm. The two are off before long, discussing plans to go hunting tonight and bring in some Freaker ears to Tucker. They need the camp credits if they want to stay stocked up on ammo and supplies to survive at O’Leary Mountain.

As Deacon and Boozer reach the road and their bikes, Boozer makes to search Leon’s overturned one.

“Gonna see if he has anything we can scrap.”

Deacon is quick to realize his bike took some damage in the underwhelming shootout from before.

“Goddamnit.”

“What?”

“It’s the fuel pump. Leon shot out my damn fuel pump. Can we get anything off his bike?”

“Nah it’s done,” Boozer says, nudging the smoking heap of a bike with his boot. “Let’s just go back to O’Leary Mountain. We can hole up there and get supplies to fix your bike and come back in the morning.”

As Deacon moves his bike to the side of the road in an effort to conceal it, he spots a billboard for Crazy Willie’s Repair Shop.

“No, I think I have a better idea. Why don’t we just get it while we’re out here? Crazy Willie’s isn’t far from here, let’s just head on over there.”

“What’re you thinking?”

“We were going out hunting tonight anyway. Crazy Willie’s is as good a place as any.” Deacon pulls some fallen pine branches over his bike, hoping it will be enough to keep anyone from looking too hard. They’ll only be gone for a few hours, his bike should be fine.

“Okay, sounds good.”

As the two set off on Boozer’s bike, Boozer’s thoughts go back to Leon. “Hey, what did Leon give you?”

“I dunno, a map of some kind? It was hard to read. After we get my bike back, let's head back up to the cemetery, see if we can’t find anything.”

“So tomorrow, we get the drugs, take ‘em to Tucker, collect on Leon’s bounty. Then I say we head north.”

“You think shit’s any different up north?”

“Don’t matter if it’s different. I think it’d do us some good to get the hell away from here.” He pauses and Deacon can tell he’s straining to see something ahead. “Hold on there’s something blocking the road.”

“Be careful, I saw a setup like this a few weeks back. Bunch of Rippers blocked the road with an old truck.”

Boozer, not one to back down from a fight, forges ahead. “C’mon help me move this.”

They get the army truck moving, pushing it down the hill and into the lake below. Things seem too quiet. A moment after the cool metal of the truck leaves Deek’s hand does he hear a yell and feel his face explode with pain.

Someone grabs him from behind, as the first one keeps punching him. They’re not Rippers, which might be the saving grace of this whole situation. 

Deek quickly elbows the one holding him, loosening the man’s grasp enough so he can escape. From there, Deacon is deadly and efficient. One punch lands the first ambusher on his knees, where Deek silently slits his throat with the knife he keeps sheathed in his boot. The man from before, who had been holding him, rushes Deacon with a 4x4. He’s clumsy with his makeshift weapon and Deacon easily sidesteps it, plunging the boot knife into the man’s neck. There’s a third attacker, he looks younger than the others, and Deacon almost hates to kill him. But he has a code. And out in the shit, it’s kill or be killed. Deacon rolls, dodging another clumsy attack, and pops up behind the kid. He grabs the kid’s face and drives the knife into his temple. The kid slumps to the ground just as Boozer’s last attacker does the same.

They’ve both escaped this encounter unharmed. After the events of today, Deacon might be worried that they’re pushing their luck.

“C’mon, we’re almost there,” Deek says, climbing back onto the bike and settling in behind Boozer. The two are silent as they make their way down the road.

It’s not long before the pair reach a tunnel, the NERO checkpoint marking the way. They’re on the right track, Crazy Willie’s is just at the other end.

Boozer slows as they reach the tunnel’s mouth. “How do you want to do this?”

“Give me your shotgun, I’ll walk point.”

The tunnel is crowded with cars. All sorry bastards that met their end when NERO stopped letting people through in an stupid attempt to keep the infection from spreading. All it did was get people killed.

“Bad way to go out, trapped in a shithole like this.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

The going is slow. Deacon takes his time ensuring there aren’t any Freaks in front of them while also searching the abandoned vehicles for supplies. Many contain medical supplies that he and Boozer are low on, and Deek manages to get his hands on a lot of good scrap by popping the hoods on some of the cars. It’s a successful haul even before they make it to Crazy Willie’s.

They don’t get terribly far before a terrible smell starts to permeate the tunnel.

“You smell that?” Deacon asks.

“Yeah,” Boozer gags, “let’s go.”

“Nah, hold up. How many molotovs do you have left back here?” Deacon starts rifling through the bag of supplies on the back of Boozer’s bike, finding just what he was looking for.

“No, let’s just hit it on the way back, leave it.”

“Leave it my ass.”

“Son of a bitch, you’re hoping someone’s home,” Boozer calls out as Deek stalks off towards the pile of sticks and shit that the Freakers call home.

Deacon lights the molotov and tosses it at the nest, and the whole thing goes up in flames at an alarming rate. Muffled screeches emanate from inside.

“Sounds like you got your wish,” Boozer says, clearly displeased that Deacon is actively seeking out Freaks now.

Two Freaks rush out of the burning nest, and Deacon easily dispatches them both. Deacon is still angry, still upset about how this day has gone, and who better to take it out on than the Freaks. He steps up to one of them, lying dead on the ground and starts to bash its head in with the butt of Boozer’s shotgun.

“Deek. Deek!”

Boozer’s hand circles Deacon’s arm, forcing him to stop.

“I think it’s dead.” Deacon remains resolutely silent. “You’re gonna break my shotgun.”

Deacon’s heaving breaths slow. It takes him a few moments too long to truly back down from his task. Boozer reluctantly returns to his bike.

“You’re going up there again.”

“What are you talking about, Boozer?”

“The goddamn refugee camp. You only act like this when you’re thinking about going up there.”

“Act like what?”

“It’s not your fault that she’s dead.”

“Drop it.”

“If you’d gotten on that chopper with Sarah, all that would have changed it you’d be dead too.”

“I said drop it.”

Boozer wasn’t wrong. Deacon had been thinking about going up to the refugee camp again. And he definitely did start acting more reckless when the guilt over Sarah’s death started piling up. Boozer is just looking out for him, and yet it just makes Deacon feel attacked and overall uneasy.

Still, the pair continue on down the tunnel. There’s suddenly an alarm blaring, coming from one of the cars as a Freak crawls out from underneath it.

“Oh shit,” Boozer mutters from his bike.

Deacon shoots the one under the car, but the noise of the alarm brings two more Freaks to their location. Still, with a little help from Boozer, Deacon makes quick work of the Freaks and then makes a beeline for the car. He pops the hood and rattles around in the engine, pulling out the car alarm and halting the noise. He pauses for a moment, making sure no more Freaks are headed their way. Deek makes a mental note to watch out for cars with alarms. Nothing good will come from them.

They reach an impasse in the tunnel. There are too many trucks and cars piled up with no way to get Boozer’s bike through.

“Why don’t you try that service tunnel?”

“Yeah sure, just keep your headlight pointed that way.”

Deacon doesn’t exactly like having to split off from Boozer in this Freak infested tunnel, but this seems to be the only way through for now.

He heads into the tunnel with trepidation, taking his time to make sure there isn’t anything moving in the shadows. Of course, that means he’s too focused on the shadows in front of him to worry about the door on his left. It bursts open as he passes it, a Freak jumping out at him.

The thing is quick and hideous and it smells even worse. Deacon knows he needs to keep his cool. He struggles with it, as it pins him against the wall. This allows Deek to get some leverage against the Freak, kicking it back and gaining the space he needs to draw his boot knife. Three slashes later and the thing is dead on the ground. Deek continues down the tunnel, no worse for wear.

At the end of the service tunnel is a truck. It’s heavy but pushable. It’s the perfect thing to clear from the pileup to get Boozer and his bike through. Deacon can see the car alarm flashing red in the distance. Moving the truck backwards will hit the car, and the alarm will sound. It’s the only way through, so Deacon steels himself before pushing, knowing he’s about to bring more Freaks down on himself.

Sure enough, the alarm sounds and he can hear the terrible screeching in the distance. Two come running, but he can see more waiting in the shadows. It’s relatively easy, dispatching them all, if not a little nerve wracking.

“Ugh, another nest.”

Boozer coughs, “Yeah I can smell it.”

“You have any more molotovs?”

“No, you just used the last one.”

“Well you got any shit to make more?”

“Yeah, here.”

Deacon grabs the required materials, crafting them into the molotov needed to light this nest on fire. A simple toss and two Freaks come flooding out. Deacon manages to take them both out with one powerful pump from the shotgun.

“Alright, that’s it. Hop on.”

Deacon obliges, as they’ve reached the end of the tunnel. Crazy Willie’s is just ahead.

As Boozer revs the engine and pulls away Deacon figures he owes the man an apology for how he acted earlier.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said. About riding north.” Boozer’s plan is smart, if only to get Deacon away from the hurt of losing Sarah and all the guilt that still hangs over him from that night.

“Just saying, you need to clear your head. Get away from here, y’know.”

“In the morning we’ll turn in the bounties and hit the road.”

“Hell yeah, brother. Now you’re talking.”

The Mongrels stop at the hill overlooking Crazy Willie’s. There are Freaks everywhere. Many more than Deacon had figured would be here. Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea. They’d made the ride up though, it’d be silly not to try and find a fuel pump. Their entire plan hinges on it.

“Well you wanted a Freakshow,” Boozer comments.

“Shit.”

“Place is crawling.”

Newts sit upon rooftops, overlooking the larger Freaks on the ground as they hunt for any living thing to eat. They growl and claw their way through overgrown grass and fallen pieces of buildings. Deacon swears he sees two Freaks tearing apart a Newt, which is disturbing in and of itself. 

“Shit, we’re gonna need more ammo. What are you thinking? And I already know it’s a bad idea.”

Deacon hops off the bike before telling Boozer the plan.

“You just, ride on through. Pull as many of them off as you can. And I’ll just go through the back, down that hill and find the garage.”

“Shit.”

“You just need to give me a few minutes to find the part I need, you ride back then we ride the hell out. After I kill a few of the bastards.”

“I swear to God you’ve got a death wish.”

“Like I said, not tonight.”

Boozer rides off, revving the engine much more than necessary. “C’mon you sons of bitches!”

Deek watches as Boozer collects a long line of Freaks behind him before setting off in search of his fuel pump.

There are some Newts still hanging around a truck as he passes. He pays them no mind, instead focusing on taking out the Freak eating  _ something _ on the path to the garage. The thing is so involved in shoving rotten flesh down its throat that it never realizes Deek is there until a knife is thrust into its head. 

Deacon pulls a similar move on a second Freak before jumping through a broken window. Opting to cut through the abandoned house seems like a smarter move than walking through the open courtyard that is crawling with Freaks. Sometimes stealth is a necessary tactic.

He exits the house on the other side through yet another broken window. One more stealth kill on a Freak leaves him an open path towards the garage.

The walkie talkie he keeps strapped to his chest crackles to life.

“Deek, how you doing? You almost ready?”

“Not yet, still gotta find a way inside the garage. There’s gotta be a fuel pump inside.”

“Well hurry your ass up. I rode past one of those uh, what do you call ‘em? The shit that Rippers put up.”

“Sigils.”

“Yeah, means they’re up here somewhere.”

The radio cuts. It isn’t great news. Deacon’s got a job to do though, and the faster he finds this pump the faster they can leave and avoid any Rippers in the area.

There’s a shed behind the garage that Deacon scopes out first. There’s a truck here, and he manages to find an oil filter he can use as a suppressor. There’s no bike out here though, so he enters the small junkyard in the hopes of finding an open door or smashed window into the garage itself. 

He doesn’t find either, but a small Newt runs from him, climbing up some debris and onto the garage’s roof. Deacon follows it, and discovers a large hole that would drop him down into the garage. He dispatches the three Newts on the roof, making it safe to enter. There’s one more Newt hiding in the garage, but other than that it’s clear. Deacon, being conscious of how long he’s taking, looks around and nabs some more supplies before making his way towards the bike at the back of the garage. 

He’s never been more happy to see a fuel pump in his life.

Deacon radios in, “Boozer you there? I’ve got the part, I’m headed out to the highway.”

“Deek? Fuck. Rippers! RIPPERS!”

Deacon can hear the sounds of motorcycles in the background. Boozer sounds a lot more scared than Deacon has ever heard him before.

“No, no, no! Ah… shit.”

There’s a metallic screech that Deacon can only assume is Boozer crashing his bike.

“Rippers? Boozer? Boozeman?”

There’s no reply and Deacon is only met with static.

“Goddamnit.”

Deacon bursts into action, exiting the garage at a run. He catches sight of the sigil Boozer had radioed about and turns in that direction. It isn’t long before he can hear Boozer’s screams and the voices of three Rippers.

“These tats are dead symbols of a dead man. Dead symbols of the lost.”

“Get off me! Son of a bitch!”

“Biker man. You must be brought low biker man. For you are Lost. And we are Found.” The Ripper fires up a blowtorch, and pushes the flames to Boozer’s right arm, burning away the sleeve of his shirt and melting the flesh underneath. Any tattoos Boozer had there will never be recognizable again.

“We will show you the Path. Get Low, Low.”

Boozer’s screams are inhuman. They will haunt Deacon forever. As Deacon reaches his friend he can see all the color has drained from his face. He can see Boozer is on the verge of passing out. He can see three Rippers who have fucked with the wrong men today. They’re going to pay, and Boozer is going to make it out of this. Deek won’t let him die, not today, and not like this.

Deacon jumps out of cover, gun blazing. Three well placed shots have all Rippers dead, and Deek rushes to Boozer’s side.

“Those goddamn sons of bitches. I’m gonna kill them. I’m gonna kill them all,” Boozer mutters, crawling towards his bike and coddling his arm.

“Boozer, Boozer, are you--”

Boozer’s arm is undeniably fucked. From hand to elbow it’s red and raw and burnt to a crisp. What was a full sleeve of tattoos is now a giant opened wound.

“Oh my God.”

“Oh shit,” Boozer grumbles as he tries to stand.

“Here lemme help you.”

“No I got this.”

“No you don’t, here,” Deacon says, gingerly grabbing Boozer around the middle. He’s careful to avoid the arm as he heaves him to his feet.

“Fucking Rippers.”

“We gotta go pal,” Deek whispers. He can see a horde coming down the hill, no doubt brought on by the noise of their fight with the Rippers.

“It’s like they were waiting for me or something, fuck,” Boozer continues, apparently oblivious to the imminent danger still around them. “I didn’t see them and then they were on me.”

Deacon watches as Boozer looks down at his arm for the first time. He’s not quite sure what he expects Boozer’s reaction to be.

“My arm.”

“Don’t look at it,” he says, hefting Boozer’s bike up off the ground.

“My goddamn arm.”

“I’m serious, don't look at it.”

“Ugh, God.”

“Don’t look at it! Get on the bike.”

Boozer climbs on behind Deacon, finally seeing the sheer number of Freaks walking towards them.

“Alright, go, go!”

They speed away, making the journey back to O’Leary Mountain.


	2. Chapter 2

Boozer doesn’t allow Deacon to check their encampment before he heads in. Deacon is just happy he heads straight for his bunk rather than trying to be helpful and risk further injuring his arm.

“I’m gonna go out and find some shit for your arm and get my bike. You gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. I’ll head back to that NERO checkpoint, they’ve gotta have painkillers and sterile bandages.”

“Wait, don’t leave my bike there.”

“No, no. I’m going out on foot while it’s still light out.”

“Okay. I’ve got some ammo in the crate if you need it. And don’t take my shotgun.”

Deacon’s not sure how great of an idea that is, but hands the shotgun over anyway.

“Thanks brother. I just feel kind of naked without it.”

Boozer’s arm is definitely not going to be fine. But finding some supplies to hopefully curb any infection he’ll get is the first step. Plus the bandages to keep it away from the elements. This is easily the most dangerous situation they’ve found themselves in in the two years since the world went to shit. Deacon won’t admit it, but it’s the first time in a while he’s been truly scared for someone he cares about.

Deacon goes to set off for his bike and the NERO checkpoint but gets quickly distracted by someone sneaking around the safehouse.

He radios Boozer to stay on alert.

“What’s he doing?” Boozer asks.

“No idea. I’m gonna follow him, see if there’s more of them. Deacon out.”

It isn’t hard to track him, and it’s even easier to take out the six people at the camp. Deacon rifles through their belongings for supplies and ammo before setting back on his quest.

“Hey Boozeman, they were just a few drifters. Probably trying to move into our safehouse.”

Boozer’s voice crackles over the radio, “It’s like we were saying before. I think it’s time to start thinking about heading north.”

“Let’s get your arm fixed up. Then we can start thinking about hitting the road. I’m heading to my bike. Deacon out.”

It starts raining soon after Deacon leaves the drifter camp. And with rain comes Freaks. There’s certainly less than Deacon would expect to see in weather like this, but still he has to deal with quite a few before getting back to the road where he’s left his bike.

“I’ve gotta be getting close, c’mon baby where the fuck are you,” Deek mutters to himself as he walks. “Here we go, this is where we left it,” he says as he emerges from the woods and onto the road.

He walks a few feet down the road towards where he can see the branches he left covering his bike, only to find that the branches are scattered in a heap not covering anything.

“My bike’s gone,” he says with a sense of disbelief. “Fuck. Damnit. Copeland!”

Surely some of Copeland’s men found it and brought it back to camp to part it out or sell. They’re the closest encampment and Manny is always on the lookout for good bikes. Deacon turns around, hands in the air in frustration when he sees someone duck behind an abandoned cop car.

“Hey, you’re from Copeland’s camp! Where the hell is my bike?” He shouts after the man.

“I didn’t take your bike man, I swear.” Despite his statement of innocence the man takes off away from Deacon, clearly running from his site of wrongdoing.

“I’m not gonna kill ya, just stop running.”

The man keeps running, and Deacon has to hand it to him, he’s fast and Deek has very little chance of catching him.  _ I’m gonna kill him just for making me run. _

Deacon manages to tail him all the way back to Copeland’s camp, losing him as the gate closes behind him. When he runs up the gate guard shines a light in his face.

“St. John, is that you?”

“Some son of a bitch stole my bike.”

“Gotta go talk to Manny about that.”

The gate slides open, and Deacon walks in. It isn’t hard to find Manny’s shop. The mechanic is rather loud and likes to make his presence known.

“Hey Manny.”

“Hey man, haven’t seen you around lately. Or been too busy to notice,” he says, gesturing to the piles of parts and all the bike frames around his shop. “Work hard, nose down and they feed you.”

“Yeah, a camper’s life.” Deacon can’t fathom a life so rigid. He’d much rather be out in the shit and take his chances with the Freaks rather than be cooped up and subject to others generosity in order to eat. He strolls over to a bike frame at the edge of Manny’s shop. The thing looks heavily parted out. Still, the frame looks awfully familiar. “Manny I’m looking for a bike.”

“Woah, woah, woah. You don’t want that one.”

“Why not?”

“It just came off the truck. Some dumb son of a bitch left it out in the shit. Rusted up good. Been rode hard too. The fool who rode it didn’t know shit about bikes.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah, shot to hell this one. We just parted it out. It didn’t even have a fuel pump. I mean, we coulda used that.”

“Oh man, a fuel pump. You mean like this one?” Deacon says, pulling the part from his bag and showing it to Manny. He’s found his bike, but obviously it’s a bit late to do anything about it.

“O-okay.”

“Like this one, Manny?” Manny’s hands are in the air in surrender, but Deek feels the need to push the situation. Sue him for being angry over the loss of his prized possession. 

“Okay, okay. See now, when I said fool, what I meant was, the fools that brought that bike in. You see they didn’t tie that shit down right, so they left it, like, rattling around back there.”

“Deek.” Copeland interrupts the minor altercation taking place with a single word. As the leader of an encampment he does hold some level of authority. “Let’s talk.”

Copeland starts walking, and Deacon follows, leaving Manny and his shell of a bike behind.

“Looks like you’ve had some trouble here,” Deacon starts.

“We got hit hard last night. Rippers again. Twice now they’ve been up here. Some say looking for you and Boozer.”

“Out in the shit folks say a lot of things.”

“Saw Leon the other day?”

“Yeah?”

“He was bringing me something.”

“Is that right?”

“Folks here are in a lot of pain, Deek.”

“Oh, Leon.” Deacon huffs out a breath. “Tuck said he took off. No one’s seen him.”

“Tell you what. You find his stash, you bring it to me. To me, Deek. You do that, well I’ll see what we can do for you.”

“The bike. That your men stole. That your men parted out.”

“Salvage, Deek, salvage.”

“Alright. I’ll try to keep that in mind.” Deacon goes to leave, frustrated with how this conversation went.

“By the way, nice hat.”

“What?” The comment is so off hand for Deacon’s simple black baseball hat that it stops him in his tracks.

“No, this one,” Copeland says, snatching Leon’s blood-stained hat off his belt.

“Don’t you ever touch --”

“Now hold on. Leon used to wear a hat like this didn’t he?”

“Cope, I swear to God.”

“Don’t. You want to do business in my camp? You start doing runs for me.”

“Cope. Shit, fine. I’m here anyway, whaddya got?”

“Now that’s more like it. A group of drifters have been harassing my supply runs. They’ve moved into the radio tower west of O’Leary Mountain. Isn’t that your backyard?”

“No, it’s not,” Deacon lies. “But I’ll take care of ‘em.”

“I thought you might.”

Deacon heads back towards the gates, set on walking back towards the mountain and the radio tower. Manny stops him before he can leave.

“Hey, hey Deek! Hold up. I just want to say how sorry I am. I-I didn’t know, I swear.”

“Do you have any idea how much time I put into that bike? It was a drifter bike, Manny!”

“I know, I know. I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I put together a new one.”

“You call this piece of shit a bike?” Deacon asks, eyeing the small and overall underwhelming motorcycle that Manny seems to have put together.

“I know it’s not, look I’ll keep an eye out for more parts. I’ll hook you up. I swear.”

“Okay, and what about my custom gas tank, Manny? Y’know, the one I got from my dead wife? You gonna keep an eye out for that one too?”

“Jesus Deek, I’m sorry.”

“Just get the fuck out of my way.”

Deacon moves towards the bike. It’s functional, so at least it’s better than walking. Still, it is a piece of shit that will need a ton of work for it to be anywhere near comparable to the bike he lost.

It’s time to prioritize tasks. Now that he has a bike, he’s still not quite ready to call it  _ his _ bike, he can either go get supplies for Boozer’s arm at the NERO checkpoint, or he can head over to O’Leary Mountain to take care of the drifters at the radio tower. Boozer’s needs come before any job given by Cope, so Deek sets off to check out the NERO site.

“Boozer, ya there?” Deacon radios.

“Yeah, man.”

“Good, good, how’s the arm?”

“Like I said, I’ll be fine.”

“I’m still gonna head to that NERO checkpoint, see if I can’t find some sterile bandages, ointment, something.”

“Yeah, sure whatever. I’m gonna go out, make sure the mountain is clear.”

“What? Boozer no, no. Those are third degree burns you stay there and you rest, okay? I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“I guess, uh, I guess I could use something for the pain.”

Deacon shakes his head to himself. Of course Boozer is hurting and too proud to say anything about it. It’s gonna get him killed one day.

There’s a handful of Freaks that swarm him due to the noise of his bike as Deacon pulls up to the checkpoint. He takes them all down before even stepping off his bike. With a clear area to work in, Deacon sets about gathering supplies.

The good medical stuff he needs is inside the Mobile Medical Units though, which are currently locked due to an absence of power. There’s a generator around though, and all he needs to do is find some gas to power it up.

A tow truck at the mouth of the tunnel he and Boozer had ridden through before holds his answer. Deek takes a moment to refill the gas in the bike before going to the generator. He fills it up, drops the can and presses the button.

Speakers go off around him, droning on and on about NERO guidelines and whatever other shit they told people to calm them down back in the day. It’s loud though, that’s the part that worries him. He’d taken care of a handful of Freaks to clear out this area, but those speakers on top of the MMU might just bring a horde down on him.

Sure enough he can hear the screams of Freaks getting louder. It’s a mad dash on top of the MMU, and he manages to cut one speaker before the first of the Freaks arrive. There’s more than he wanted to come. Maybe ten in total. If he doesn’t get the second speaker turned off there is no doubt that more will come.

Deacon manages to pick off three Freaks before they reach the MMU, some break off to follow the sound of the last speaker, but most of them start climbing crates to reach him on the roof. With his gun next to useless in close combat he instead pulls out the baseball bat strapped to his back. Two hearty swings is all it takes to take down a Freak. It’s harrowing and Deek finds himself backed into a corner of the roof, grappling with the last Freak. He manages to break free and a swift slice of the boot knife has the Freak falling to the ground below.

There are three Freaks left, all still distracted by the droning NERO protocols. Deacon takes out his gun and pops each in the head before cutting the speaker down. Silence envelops the NERO checkpoint, and Deacon waits a moment to ensure no more Freaks are coming. He scurries back down the crates and opens the door to the MMU. Inside he finds all the medical supplies he needs, replenishing his own stock and finding plenty for Boozer’s arm.

Deacon high tails it back out to his bike. No sense in keeping Boozer waiting for supplies he desperately needs. The drifters on the mountain can come after Boozer is more stable.

“Boozer you there?” Deacon radios ahead. Silence meets his call. “Goddamnit Boozer, answer me.”

Deacon pushes the bike to go just a little faster.

As he nears the mountain, Deek instead picks up Copeland’s signal.

“St. John, you there?”

“What’s up Cope?”

“When you get to the mountain, the drifters have shut down our radio uplinks. I’ll pay you to restore them.” 

“So these drifters… you know ‘em? Because shutting down Radio Free Oregon seems pretty personal.”

“Goddamn right, it's personal. They used to be a part of my camp. Seems they didn’t like the rules against stealing, raping, and murdering.”

“Well, maybe they’re like me and just tired of listening to your paranoid preacher bullshit. St. John out.”

Just because he’s doing runs for Cope now doesn’t mean he has to be friendly.

“One more thing. When they left it appears that they may have stolen some automatic rifles and some shotguns. Watch yourself.”

“Jesus, Cope, thanks for the heads-up.”

“I do what I can. Cope out.”

_ “Do what you can,” son of a bitch, yeah right. _

The safehouse looks untouched when Deacon pulls up. That’s a good sign that nobody came and an even better sign that Boozer didn’t leave. He walks up the steps to the watchtower, pulling out the supplies for Boozer as he goes.

“Hey Boozer, I got some shit for your arm,” Deacon says as he enters. He chances a glance out the window in the direction of the radio tower Cope was talking about. But when Boozer doesn’t answer him his attention gets dragged back.

Boozer is lying on his bunk. He’s stock still. Deek can’t even tell if he’s breathing or not.

“Boozer?” Deacon’s voice sounds quiet, even to himself. “Oh shit.”

He takes some steps closer, willing Boozer to still be alive.  _ It can’t end like this. _

“Boozer!” His voice is louder now, verging on desperation. “Hey!” Deacon says and he reaches out to touch Boozer. He shakes his shoulder, being mindful of the burnt arm.

“Ah, Ah!” Boozer yells as he rounds on Deacon, instinctively pulling his shotgun from under his pillow and leveling it at his supposed attacker.

“Hey! Woah, woah, woah, shit!” Deacon pleads, holding one hand out to Boozer to get him to stop.

“Shit, Deek. I coulda blown your goddamn head off.”

“Look, it’s fine. Now lemme see that arm.”

“Nope, no, I got this.”

“Boozer let me see the arm.”

“I got it!” Boozer yells, snatching the medical supplies from Deacon’s grasp.

“Alright! Fuck,” Deacon responds, hands in the air in surrender. He moves to go, Boozer clearly still wanting to be left alone and him still needing to go deal with the drifters on the mountain.

“Just, Deek?” Boozer calls as Deacon reaches the door. “Thanks, brother. I’ll be better, okay? I’m gonna be fine.”

Boozer sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself than actually apologize. Deacon will take it either way.

The rain hasn’t let up as Deacon makes his way across the mountain to the radio tower. But he’s bent on solving this issue tonight. The faster he gets these loose ends tied up, the faster they can head north when Boozer’s arm heals.

Besides, drifters on the mountain are bad news for the security of their safehouse anyway. 

Deek is sure to stop a ways down the path, careful not to let the bike’s noise carry up the hill and alert the drifters to his presence. Still, it seems that he wasn’t careful enough. He manages to ditch the bike and hop behind the cover of an outlying tent as two drifters come charging down the mountain. They spot his bike, but fail to see him in their rush. They’re easy pickings, and soon Deacon is alone again.

He makes his way silently up the hill before coming upon two more drifters working in a shed. They’re talking about how they shot up the radio uplinks, effectively silencing Copeland and his Radio Free Oregon campaign. Deacon thinks it was a smart move, certainly cuts down on the annoying shit he has to hear Copeland say. But he’s being paid pretty well to wipe these guys out and fix the radio, so that’s what he’s going to do. Deacon sneaks through the back door, slitting one drifter’s throat. The one working on the car spins around, firing a few shots and alerting the other drifters in camp. One bullet finds its mark and Deacon stumbles. But in another moment Deacon downs that drifter too.

A woman comes running out of camp and Deek guns her down in two quick shots. A man takes her place and Deacon dispatches him the same way. From the corner of his eye Deacon spots another drifter at the edge of camp, seemingly oblivious to the fighting going on at the main entrance. He slips away to take care of that drifter before climbing onto the bed of a truck to hop the fence and infiltrate the camp properly.

Deacon takes a quick survey of the camp, climbing onto the roof of one of the buildings. Only one more drifter can be seen, and he’s turned away from Deacon. A quick shot to the head and the camp is clear.

The radio uplink is shot to hell, those drifters from before weren’t lying. The thing is sparking so much Deek is almost hesitant to fix it. He doesn’t think Cope would take that for an excuse though, so he carefully uses some scrap he’s picked up around the camp to fix the damn thing.

As soon as Deacon flips the big switch back to “on” a voice calls out behind him.

“Drop it!”

It’s a woman. And she’s pointing a mean looking rifle straight at his chest.

Deacon swiftly draws his handgun, returning the favor.

“If you had bullets I wouldn’t be breathing, now would I?” He asks her.

“Please, mister,” she says as she lowers her weapon and raises her hand in a non-threatening gesture. 

“I don’t shoot women if I have a choice. Do I have a choice?”

“I ain’t got nothing. I’ve got nowhere to go.”

Deacon motions for her to get moving. She drops her weapon and runs off. Deacon picks it up. Sure enough, no bullets. Still, the rifle seems to be in okay condition. Enough to add it to his own personal arsenal for the time being.

With the immediate danger gone, Deacon goes looking for the underground bunker that most camps like this have. They’re a beacon for maps of the area and usually Deacon is lucky enough that they have recipes for weapons and other helpful things for being out in the shit. This one is no different.

Boozer’s voice crackles over the radio. “Deek, you there? I just thought I heard some bikes driving up the mountain.”

“I, uh, I just finished clearing the radio tower... for Copeland. I’ll climb the tower and see if I can see anything.”

Boozer pauses for a moment before answering, “Hey, you okay? You don’t sound like yourself.”

“It’s nothing Boozer. I just let this drifter get the drop on me. Lucky for me, she was out of ammo.”

“You let her go didn’t you?”

“Okay, yeah, fuck, I let her go.”

“One of these days Deek, that code of yours is going to get you killed.”

“Yeah, well. Something’s gonna do it. Does it matter what? Deacon out.”

The climb up the tower is long, and Deacon isn’t exactly thrilled with being up this high. But, sure enough, he can see smoke pouring out from a camp somewhere else on the mountain.

“You were right, I can see the smoke from their campfire. Someone else is on the mountain,” he calls back in to Boozer.

“Son of a bitch, I knew I heard something. Where are they? I’m gonna head out there.”

“No goddamnit, we gotta get your arm healed up so we can ride out of here. I’ll take care of it.”

“Ah, shit. It’s just. I’m going a little stir crazy here Deek.”

“Just try to stay awake in case they head your way, Deacon out.”

Deacon’s climb back down is somehow worse than going up, a constant mantra of  _ 'c'mon you’re almost there, keep going’ _ playing on repeat in his head. He makes it to the ground safely, heading back towards the bike.

It’s a quick jaunt over to the smoke’s location. He lets Copeland know the radio signal should be back up and running on the drive over, and Copeland, surprisingly, thanks him. The drifters here didn’t exactly make it hard to find them. There’s a few Freaks hanging about the edges of the camp, and Deek takes them out silently first. No need to make some noise killing these drifters just to bring a group of Freaks down on himself. 

“Boozeman you were right. They’ve set up along the railroad tracks,” Deacon radios after scoping out the camp a bit.

“Kill every one of those sons of bitches.”

“Yeah, that was kind of the plan. Deacon out.”

The trick to ambush camps is making sure to not fall into their traps. Whether that means cutting down trip wires or spotting bear traps, it’s important to stay vigilant. Deacon manages to avoid all the bells and whistles with a practiced ease, cutting down the invading drifters one by one.

“Boozer, it’s done. The squatter camp. They won’t be doing any more killing on O’Leary mountain.”

“Good. I shoulda been there, to help I mean. Ah, shit…” he trails off.

“That’s alright Boozeman. You rest up, once that arm heals we’re riding north, you got that?”

“Yeah, I hear you. Boozer out.”

Deacon takes his time packing up and scavenging what he can from the squatter camp. It’d be dumb to destroy their camp without first reaping the rewards. Eventually, Boozer calls in again.

“Hey, you headed out?”

“Yeah, I’m going to head up to the cemetery, see if I can’t find Leon’s stash.”

“Sounds good. I’ll check in later.”

“Rest up Boozer. We’ll head out when you’re ready.”

The conversation dies out as Deacon hops back on his bike. But not ten minutes later Boozer is back on the radio.

“Deek. Did you say you were headed north?”

“Boozeman no, you know I wouldn’t ride north without you.”

“No, no I know. Guess I’m just kind of out of it.”

“Well, third degree burns will do that to you.”

“Just, take care of Alvarez when you get to the cemetery.”

“Of course, Boozer. She deserves that much.”

Deacon makes it to the cemetery with little hassle. He did have to drive through the mass grave at the base of O’Leary Mountain which he always manages to forget is there. He’s not quite sure how, seeing how it kind of looms over everything else in the area. It’s just eerie and he’d rather not think about it on a daily basis. 

He pulls up, stopping just shy of the giant statue marking the cemetery’s entrance. Alvarez is still slumped at its base. Fortunately, it seems no Freaks have found her body yet. Deek lights a molotov, tossing it at Alvarez and giving her the best burial he can muster.

“Rest in peace. They can’t get you now.”

Deacon gives Alvarez a moment of silence before moving on, and into the cemetery. Leon’s note had mentioned a weeping angel, so he sets about looking for anything that might match that description. 

He finds a Freak gnawing on the bones of a deer carcass. Just beyond it he can see a large statue that looks like it might have wings. Driving his boot knife through the Freak’s head, Deacon makes his way further into the cemetery, closing in on what he’s looking for. There’s a crow bar sitting discarded in front of the angel statue. A tomb not too far away has clear markings on the side, which match the general size of the crowbar. A simple shove of the tomb’s covering reveals Leon’s stash of drugs.

There’s a noise he hasn’t heard in years emanating from above him as he grabs the stash. A black helicopter flies overhead. Deacon knows exactly who it belongs to.

“Boozer, Boozeman, are you listening? You’re not gonna believe what I just saw, a goddamned chopper.”

“A chopper? What are you talking about.”

“A NERO chopper! It just buzzed right over me, acted like I wasn’t even there.”

“All this time and a NERO chopper shows up out of nowhere?”

“I’m gonna chase them down, see what the hell they’re doing.”

“Hey Deek, be careful. Don’t get too close until you know what the hell they’re doing. And don’t do anything stupid.”

“Hell no, I’m not going to do anything stupid.”

Deacon rushes back out to his bike, strapping the drugs to the back of it. He races off in the direction he saw the helicopter go, hoping he isn’t too late to catch back up to them.

The chopper sets down a short ways from the cemetery, and Deacon manages to catch back up with little issue. He watches as the NERO soldiers, decked out in neon yellow hazmat suits and deadly looking weapons, depart from the chopper and swarm the surrounding area. One individual, dressed in a bright white hazmat suit, heads towards a series of caves that Deacon knows is in the area. His gut tells him to follow that one in particular.

Deacon has the wherewithal to know to stay away from the soldiers. Being spotted by any of them is a certifiable death sentence. Instead, he keeps to the bushes, slinking past all the guards and making his way to the cave's opening.

The NERO researcher begins speaking about the inhabitants of the cave, estimated to be nearly 500 Freaks, before she’s interrupted by the guard accompanying her.

“Hey doc, I see site 23 on the roster for tomorrow, is that us?”

“No, that’s O’Brian.”

Deacon knows that name. It has his heart racing faster than it has in a long time.  _ O’Brian’s alive? _

It’s foolish to get his hopes up about anything. He knows this. But still, hope is a funny thing.

_ He was at that camp. If O’Brian’s alive…  _

Deacon has to squeeze his eyes shut to stop that train of thought before it gets too far. Sarah is dead. Just because he’s alive doesn’t mean anyone else escaped that camp. Hell, it could be an entirely different O’Brian for all he knows.

The researcher wraps up her report and Deacon figures it’s high time to get out of there. He returns to his bike, careful not to gain attention from any of the remaining NERO soldiers. 

“Boozer, you there? Boozeman, come back.”

“Deek, hey I’m here.”

“When we were in Farewell, the NERO guy. The soldier, who-ever-the-hell took Sarah.”

“What’re you--”

“He had an ID badge, what was the name?”

“Ugh, God. O’Brian. He wouldn’t shut up about it all the way up to Three Fingered Jack.”

“Yeah, okay. He’s alive Boozer. He’s alive.”

“What’re you talking about? We were there, the whole camp was wiped out.”

“No, I know that, but I heard. Okay look. I went into their LZ, and they--”

“Wait, wait. You went into their LZ? What the hell were you thinking?”

“Just listen to me. I heard them over the radio. They were talking about a man named O’Brian.”

“Deek, don’t--” The warning in Boozer’s voice is clear.

“I’m not Boozer. I’m not.” Deek already knows this is a lie. His hopes are as high as they have ever been since they found the overrun camp. Deacon already knows that this line of thinking might very well be the end of him. “I took care of it, Alvarez I mean.”

“Thanks, brother. She’d have done the same for us.”

“Yeah, she would have. Get some sleep, Deacon out.”

The chase down of the NERO chopper and the ensuing information that came from it has Deacon wishing he could take three days to sleep it off. The large box of drugs still strapped to the back of his bike stares back at him though. He sighs, and sets off in the direction of Tucker’s camp. Maybe after all the shit of the past few days, turning in Leon’s bounty will at least ease some of the pain.


	3. Chapter 3

The guard at the gate lets him in easily, and he’s informed that both Tucker and Alkai are at the dig site. Deacon finds them with little trouble. They’re arguing over how long the job at the dig site is going to take. Tucker is a mean old lady, who isn’t afraid to give Alkai a piece of her mind. Alkai is clearly fighting a losing battle, as Tucker is unwilling to give ground to give more food to those working at the dig site.

“One more thing,” Alkai says, turning the conversation to a new topic. “Rippers. This morning. One of my men spotted a large group of them coming over the pass.”

“And no one stopped them,” Tucker says, clearly distraught at this news.

“How the fu-- Tucker you know we’re already spread thin.”

“Well are they headed North? Al, are they headed towards us, yes or no?”

“I-- I don’t know.” At this, Alkai turns to finally acknowledge Deacon’s presence. “Maybe he knows.”

Deacon doesn’t want to get dragged into this mess, and he’s got days of pent up frustration ready to unleash on Alkai. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean, huh? What’s this about?”

Tucker pulls Alkai back, not wanting a fight to break out. “Goddamnit Al, it’s not his job to know. It’s your job to know.”

“I can’t be in two places at once. You either want me in here, running your dig or you want me out in the shit, chasing the Rippers.”

“Go check and see how much ammo we got left,” Tucker says, exasperated. “I’ll tell Wheeler to watch the dig.”

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Alkai asks, rounding on Deacon again.

“I dunno, just waiting for you to smarten the fuck up.” Deacon makes a move towards Alkai, but Tucker steps between them once more.

“Don’t.” 

Neither man would dream of disobeying her. Alkai walks off, clearly frustrated, but he does have a job to go do. Tucker turns back to Deacon with a lighter tone now that she has ensured both he and Alkai won’t be trying to kill each other today.

“Did you track down Leon?”

Deacon wordlessly produces the blood stained hat.

“Well, it’s a good thing someone around here knows how to make things happen. Ride with me.”

The two load into Tuck’s golf cart as she makes the rounds of her camp.

“How long has it been since you brought someone into camp?”

“The kind of people left out in the shit aren’t the kind of people you want me bringing in.”

“We lost two more to the fever.”

“It’s not my problem,” Deacon says, dismissive. Tuck has been trying to get him and Boozer to come settle down at camp. She can use all the capable gunmen she can find to thwart her Ripper problem. Cope’s been having similar problems lately. But Deek and Boozer aren’t ones for settling down at a camp. They’d much rather keep to themselves, them against the world. “I told you, we’ll do runs for you but we’re not joining your goddamn camp.”

“So where’s Boozer?”

Deacon had a feeling this question was going to come. Luck for him, he’s had some time to think up a decent lie. He can’t just let everyone know that Boozer’s holed up back on O’Leary Mountain nursing a major injury. It'd put a big target on his back, which is something he and Boozer can't afford right now.

“He said he was gonna head over to Copeland’s camp, see if he couldn’t trade for some fish.”

“You’re not in bed with Cope now, are you? His camp near yours?”

“It’s not closer or further. Look, I’m not Boozer’s old lady, alright. He can go where he wants.”

Tucker makes a pit stop as one of her people flags her down. There’s food and ammo missing from storage. Deacon feels lucky that he won’t have to be on the receiving end of Tucker’s wrath for that mistake.

“Trouble in paradise?” Deacon asks, because poking the bear seems like the smart thing to do in this situation.

“It’s starting to piss me off. This place is like a prison. Bunch of lazy liars, thieves, rapists, and murderers. You know why that is?”

“No idea.”

“Because that’s who we are. The Freakshow. Only folks that survived were those mean enough, nasty enough, to out freak the Freaks. The rest are here, hoping I feed and protect them. Running this camp is no different than running a prison.”

“That’s right, what did you say? You were a warden or something?”

“Matron of the women’s ward. You look like someone who might’ve spent some time in the pen back in the day. You ever do time?”

“Had my share of trouble but no.”

“Well, I have a job for you. Larsen was on a run yesterday. He passed through Marion Forks, said he saw someone. A young woman, looked like, but he only caught a glance.”

“Is he sure?”

“Larsen’s been doing this long as you, he knows a person from a Freak. You have a knack for tracking. Head over there and find her before the Freaks do.”

“I’ll see what I can do, but look, Tuck. I want the rest of my credits, for Leon.”

“You bring me warm bodies, I’ll give you all the credits you can spend.”

She drops Deacon back at the camp’s entrance, releasing him to go to work. Deek decides to make a pitstop at Alkai’s shop to stock up on ammo before heading out to find this girl.

“Alkai.”

“What do you want, drifter?”

“What’s your problem, hm?”

“One of my men escaped a Ripper camp. Over by Iron Butte. He got tortured, like they always do. But this time, they kept asking him if he knew about two bikers, two men.”

“There’s a lot of bikes around here. What’s that got to do with me?”

Alkai glances at the leather vest Deacon’s wearing before continuing. “The Ripper called ‘em Mongrels. How many drifters still flying colors around here? As if that shit still matters.”

Alkai had him there. No one else from the Mongrel crew was still alive to don the cut. If the Rippers were asking for Mongrels, there’s only two men they could have meant.

_ Maybe they  _ were _ out to get Boozer. _

Deacon’s not quite sure why the Rippers seem to have a personal vendetta against him and Boozer, but it does help to explain why Boozer had been attacked and injured.

“You ask me,” Alkai continues, “you got a price on your head. How does it feel to be on the other side?”

“Al, why don’t you just show me what you’ve got because I don’t have time for your bullshit.”

Deacon likes to think that he played it off cool, but his mind is running a mile a minute. He grabs what supplies he needs from Alkai, and returns to his bike. Tired of carrying around Leon’s drug stash he decides to give it to Tucker. While his bike is a piece of shit, having the weapons that Alkai can supply is crucial to surviving out in the shit.

“Hey Tuck.”

“You get my drugs from Leon?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Deacon says, handing over the large container. “Cope wanted me to sell to him, but uh, I know who my friends are.”

“You got that right.”

As Deacon sets out for Marion Forks to try and find the girl Tucker told him about Boozer radios in.

“Hey Deek, you there?”

“Boozer, yeah I’m here. Why aren’t you in your bunk?”

“Couldn’t sleep. I was thinking about what I said before. Back in the tunnel. Don’t go up there Deek, it’s making you crazy.”

“Boozer look, I go up there because there’s Freaks up there. I kill them there, I kill them here. Bounties are all the same to me.”

“Then what’re the tulips for, huh? I saw ‘em Deek, here on the table this morning. The same ones she had at the wedding, I remember.”

“I’m not gonna-- Listen, Boozer. Get some rest, I gotta go. Deacon out.”

_ They’re not tulips, Boozer, they’re stonecrops. Get it right. _

Boozer is right though. He was planning on heading up there today. If he has to justify it as just collecting bounties on Freaks then so be it.

Deacon takes a left, heading in the opposite direction of Marion Forks. Sarah first, he  _ does _ actually have to make sure to kill all the freaks in the area around the overrun NERO camp. It just so happens that that will mean it will be safer to visit the rock marking Sarah’s grave. It’s fine.

The checkpoint is crawling with Freaks. There’s at least five that circle the abandoned tents and buildings and another ten that have taken up residence at the helicopter crash site. Deacon takes them all out with balls of fire from the explosive barrels left behind. He makes his way to the far end of the field after ensuring there are no more Freaks lurking about. Sarah’s headstone rests peacefully at the edge of a mangled helicopter. Purple flowers he’s planted over the years bud around the rock.

“Uh, hey,” he says to the stone. He says to Sarah. He’s long past feeling foolish for talking to her like this. It calms him somewhat, even if Boozer is right in saying he goes a little mad in the days before he actually makes the trip up here. “Me again.”

Memories he has tried to forget come rushing back as he places the stonecrops for Sarah. The city is in ruins, fire bursting from almost every building. Screams echoing down abandoned alleys and the wail of sirens fill the streets. There’s too much going on at once and Deacon struggles to take it all in, even if this is all in the past.

Sarah is with him, following him, trusting him to lead her through the crisis that is the end of the world. She grabs his arm, he’s been hurt somehow. He can’t remember anymore.

“Deacon I’ve got to tell you something,” she says.

“It’s okay, it’s just my arm.”

“You told me that we shouldn’t have come back, and I didn’t listen to you. I mean, I knew it was getting worse but I--”

“None of us knew it was gonna blow up like this. Not this fast.”

“You don’t understand.” She grabs his arm again, pulling him so he has to look her in the eyes. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you. This is my fault.”

“Hey. No one’s losing anyone. I made a promise, remember?”

She smiles, a soft and wispy thing. “Yeah.”

They make it out of the building they’re in, finding their way back onto the abandoned and dangerous city streets. Deacon feels Sarah as she lags behind.

“Sarah, c’mon.”

“Deacon wait there’s a kid here.”

“Wha-- oh shit.”

“Hey are you okay?” Sarah asks, bending over to get a better glance at the kid. “C’mon we gotta find your parents okay?”

Deacon can hear the grumbling of a mob coming their way. “Sarah we really gotta go.”

Sarah tries to grab the kid, get her to come with them. The kid screams, plunging a knife into Sarah’s side. Deacon remembers that moment. Remembers the shock on Sarah’s face. Remembers how he thought that would be the end of everything, right there, screw the end of the world.

“She stabbed me.”

Deacon fires his gun once, up in the air. The kid runs off, yelling the whole way.

“Oh hell,” he says, attention turning back to Sarah. “How bad is it?”

“Uh, I don’t know. I don’t think it’s that bad.”

Deacon is already pulling the bandage off his arm, wadding it up for Sarah to use instead. “Okay, okay, just hold this here, tight as you can. Can you run?”

“I don’t think so, but I think I can walk.”

“Okay, good enough. We’re almost there.”

They don’t make it very far before Sarah has to stop. Boozer manages to catch up to them. He’s injured too, but still fighting.

“She’s burning up. The knife must have nicked her kidney or something. She’s turning septic,” he informs Boozer.

“How you doing, little sister?”

“It was so stupid,” Sarah starts. “It was this kid, this little kid, this goddamn little kid.”

“With a big goddamn knife,” Boozer finishes for her.

“Okay c’mon help me,” Deacon says to Boozer, lifting Sarah back to her feet. The moans and screeches from the monsters grow louder.

“There’s another mob headed this way. We don't want to be here when they come through.”

Deacon nods in agreement. “We gotta get to the roof, see if we can flag down one of those choppers.”

They run into a man on their way up. He’s angry and distraught over the loss of his wife. He’s blinded by rage and won’t let them pass. They’ll all die if they can’t get him to calm down. He holds his gun to Deacon’s head. He’s the first person outside of an active military zone that Deacon kills. The first of many over the course of the next two years.

The helicopter waiting on the roof is a beacon of hope.

“Wait, we need help, she’s been wounded,” Deacon calls out to the man in the white hazmat suit as he and Sarah approach the chopper.

“What’s wrong with her?” the man asks.

“She’s not whatever the hell is going on out there. She’s been stabbed.”

“I can’t take any more.” His voice is so low Deacon almost can’t hear him. He spots the ID badge on the man’s chest.

“Okay listen, O’Brian? If we don’t get her to a hospital, she’s going to die.”

“There are no more hospitals.”

Sarah falls to the ground. She needs help, and Deacon is scrambling his brain trying to come up with some way for O’Brian to bend and keep her safe.

“C’mon, no more hospitals? You guys have what, doctors, triage, a MASH unit?”

“Look, I’m just a grad student okay? I got volunteered for this, I’m not even supposed to be out here!”

Deacon draws his gun. It’s a last ditch effort. But if Sarah doesn’t get on that chopper she’s dead, and Deacon might as well die with her.

“O’Brian.”

Boozer makes an appearance, crashing through the door onto the roof and drawing both his and O’Brian’s attention.

“Okay, shit. I’ve only got room for two of you, okay? Two,” O’Brian says, glancing back and forth between Boozer and the gun pointed at his head.

“What do you mean you’ve got room for two?” Deacon’s frustrated at this point, his anger showing through in the malice his words are laced with.

“We’re overweight, okay? I can only take two of you!”

Deacon’s done arguing. Sarah has a place on the chopper, and that’s what matters.

“Okay, c’mon help me,” he says to O’Brian, shifting to heave Sarah off the ground and into the chopper, sealing her safety. “It’s okay, c’mon sweetheart, you’re gonna be alright.”

Once she is loaded and in the care of O’Brian he tells her that he’ll be right back. Boozer still needs to be collected from his position at the door across the roof.

“Okay, Boozer, let’s go. We gotta get on--”

“Hold on. Hold on.”

“We gotta get on that chopper.”

“I heard what he said. There’s only room for two. Go. Go with her, I’ll be okay. Look I’ve been through worse shit than this before, yeah?”

Deacon knows that if he leaves Boozer now it will be the last time he sees him. Boozer’s got a large cut on his leg, no chance he’ll be fast enough to outrun the mobs and make it out of the city. It’s an impossible choice for Deacon. He can’t have it both ways, he can’t save everyone, and it tears his heart in two.

“Yeah, we have.” Deacon is quiet, his mind made up, though the decision breaks him inside. He turns back to the chopper, not offering up any more to Boozer on the chance he’ll try to talk him out of his plan.

“Where are you going?” Deacon asks O’Brian.

“What?”

“Where? Where?”

“Uh, refugee camp, west of Three Fingered Jack.”

“No,” Sarah pipes up from beside him, already catching on that he won’t be coming with her.

Deacon hikes his thumb back at Boozer. “Boozer is never gonna make it without me.”

Sarah looks behind Deacon at Boozer. Resignation clouds her eyes. Deacon slips his biker ring off his finger. The cool metallic dog skull shines with the light of the burning city around them. He slides it onto Sarah’s hand. The ring is too big for her hand, but it’s the thought that counts. He closes both of his hands over hers, willing them both to stay strong. Willing himself not to cry.

“I want this back,” is what he whispers to her. With so much left to say and so little time to say it, that’s all he can come up with.

O’Brian reappears at Sarah’s side.

“You coming?”

Deacon doesn’t answer. He merely looks at Sarah with sad eyes, hoping that she understands.

She shakes her head. “No,” she answers for him.

Deacon lets her hand drop. He backs away from the chopper. The engines fire up, and a blast of wind hits Deacon.

“Deek!” Boozer yells from behind him.

The chopper lifts off as Boozer reaches him. Both men watch as Sarah disappears from view as the chopper flies in the direction of Three Fingered Jack.

“Oh, shit,” Boozer grumbles. “What did you do?”

Deacon knows he’s not expecting an answer. He wouldn’t have one to give anyway.

The sun shines on his face and Deacon is pulled from the memories of two years ago. The rock with Sarah’s name etched into it stares back at him.

“You, uh, you rest easy, okay? I’ll be back to check on you, and I know-- yeah, even if you wouldn’t want me to. I guess Boozer’s right. I can’t-- I can’t help myself. It’s like I said, I’ll be back.”

Deacon turns, heading back towards his bike and shaking his head to clear the fog of his oppressive memories. He finds a shortcut, pushing a truck from underneath a fallen log, that puts him back at the entrance to the abandoned refugee camp. 

A distant thudding overhead grows louder as he walks. It isn’t long before another black chopper passes over him.

“Boozer, you there?” he calls in. “There’s another goddamn NERO chopper.”

There is no response, but Deacon decides to follow them anyway. Maybe he’ll get more information on O’Brian and just what happened when he and Sarah got separated.

His tracking of the chopper takes him down the main road through Marion Forks. He keeps an eye out for the girl Tuck wanted him to look for, but his main focus is following the chopper. He jumps the broken bridge leading out of town when the chopper reappears overhead. It swoops low as it passes, almost as if they’re trying to get a better look at him. He revs his engine and takes off behind it.

Boozer’s voice finally crackles over the radio again. Somehow, Boozer always seems to have a sixth sense for when Deacon is getting himself into trouble.

“You went up there again didn’t you. After I told you not to.”

“Look, would you just leave it. I’m just out hunting Freaks, Boozer, you got that? Bounties. That’s the only reason that I go up there.”

Boozer probably isn’t convinced, but he’s quiet for now. The chopper hovers over one of the derelict highways, seemingly waiting for Deacon to catch up. He guns it to the intersection of his dirt road and the highway where the chopper is waiting.

Which is probably the dumbest thing he could have done. A side door on the chopper slides open, revealing two NERO soldiers in bright yellow brandishing machine guns. They open fire at him. Deacon’s first thought is to take cover. He ditches off his bike, rolling behind it and scraping up his knees in the process.

The chopper takes off again, this time gaining more altitude. Deacon pops up a second later, hands frantically searching his body for bullet holes. He doesn’t find any. It must be his lucky day.

“Deek? Deek, what’s going on?” Boozer’s worried voice calls over the radio.

“Son of a bitch.”

“What happened? Are you okay?”

“Nah, nah, I’m fine. I think they were just warning shots, I mean if they were trying to hit me I’d be dead.”

“Deek, remember me telling you about that death wish of yours?”

“Yeah, yeah, I got this. Deacon out.”

The chopper lands and Deacon parks his bike. He crawls up the hill, taking cover being a rock outcropping that overlooks the valley the chopper has parked in. A NERO researcher holds a Newt at the end of a pole like she’s trying to capture it. The Newt is struggling though, desperately trying to claw out the eyes of its capturers. Deacon can see the Horde running up the hill from his vantage point before the NERO soldiers can. They need to get out of there or this will not end well. One of the soldiers fires a shot, ending the life of the Newt they were trying to capture and every NERO personnel makes a mad dash back to the chopper. It pulls away just as the first line of Freaks reaches it. The soldiers pepper the Horde as they lift off and make their narrow escape.

The Horde chases down the chopper, and most of the Freaks disappear into the trees. What catches Deacon’s eye is a glowing piece of tech where the chopper had landed.

_ Hello, what did you assholes leave behind? _

Deacon carefully makes his way down the hill, picking off any straggling Freaks as he goes. The flashing from the center of the clearing is coming from a NERO radio, exactly what Deacon needs if he’s going to find out any more information about what the NERO guys are up to. He bends down to pick up the radio when a Newt crashes into him, snatching the radio from his fingertips. The Newt is small and fast, and it scrambles back up the rock outcropping before Deacon can even put together what just happened.

“Goddamnit, get back here with that. You little shit! That’s mine!” he calls as he gets to his feet and chases after it. 

He manages to catch it at the top of the hill, and pops it once with his gun. The radio is still buzzing with chatter, and Deacon is glad the fucking Newt hadn’t broken it when he took it.

Boozer cuts in over the comm, “So what were they doing out there?”

“Shit, I don’t know. Looked like they were wrangling Freaks. They had a Newt in some kind of noose. Like they were putting a tracking device on it or something.”

“What? Wrangling, what do you mean?”

“You know, like trying to take samples from it or something, like those guys used to do on that wildlife show. Pretty fucked up. They got chased off by Swarmers, bugged the hell out. They left some gear behind, a radio.”

“Wait--”

“No, no, Boozer. I don’t know. He’s alive, man, he’s alive. O’Brian, one of them, NERO. I’m gonna track him down if I can. I’m going to get some answers.”

“Damnit, okay. Look, I’ll be able to ride soon. I’ll help you, Deek. If he’s alive, we’ll find the bastard.”

“You’re goddamn right. I’m gonna check in later, Deacon out.”

With O’Brian alive and a way to reach him in hand, Deacon’s hope of figuring out what happened to Sarah rears its head again. He heads back to his bike a little ways down the hill. Sitting on it, he remembers the first time he met Sarah.

Her car had broken down on one of the many dirt roads in Farewell. Deacon had just been out for a joyride on his bike, not really having a specific destination in mind. Looking back on it, she was probably what he was meant to find. 

He pulled up beside her, cutting his engine so they could talk more easily.

“Hey,” he’d opened.

“Hey.” She turned back to her engine, looking at it in frustration more than actually doing anything to fix it.

“So I’m sorta lost. I was hoping you could give me directions.”

The look on her face is priceless. “I’m sorry, you’re lost?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m looking for the Old Belknap Road and there’s not a lot of signs around here.”

She throws her head back in disbelief, brushing an oil covered hand against her cheek as she says, “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

Deacon stifles some laughter at her dirty appearance and manages to get out a strained “nope.”

“What, what is it?”

Deacon turns one of the side mirrors on his bike towards her, letting her see the black streak left on her face. 

“Oh, that’s great,” she says as she rubs it off. The car chooses that moment to splutter and hiss even more. “Oh that is just perfect. That is great. That is great.”

“So about those directions?”

“What? I’m really sorry, I don’t know where Bellnock, Belnack, Belknee, Bell--”

“Belknap?”

“Belknap, that’s the one. I really don’t know where it is, so I can’t help you. I’m sorry.”

“So, no, then?”

She sighs, “Nope.”

“Okay. Well, thanks anyway.” Deacon kicks the ignition, revving his engine. He pulls maybe a foot away before she calls out.

“Hey!”

He slowly walks his bike backwards, smiling to himself for getting under her skin.

“Could you use a ride?”

“Yes I could, thank you for finally offering. I’m Sarah.”

She offers her hand and Deacon takes it, introducing himself. A trail of grease stains his hand when they separate.

“Oh, uh, well, sorry about the mess.”

He wipes his hand on his jeans while Sarah muses about how to get onto his bike. Clearly, she’s never ridden one before.

“Pretty much what you think, just throw your leg over.”

“Ready,” she says, gripping the sides of the bike gingerly.

Deacon knows she’s going to fall backwards when he starts up, and as he jerks forward she clings to him with a cry of “hey!”

“Hold on tight.”

Sarah is talkative, and Deacon can’t tell if it’s just her being nervous around him or the bike, or if she’s just like this normally. Either way, she starts droning on about how there aren’t any bars out here. He knows she’s talking about cell reception, but he can’t help but mention that there’s a bar named Crazy Willie’s just up the road.

“So what’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this?”

“You know, I ask myself that all the time,” she chuckles. It’s a nice noise that Deacon immediately wants to hear again. “I do research, you know. I study things.”

“Thanks, I had no idea what research was.”

“Sorry, um, I do plants.”

The conversation is quickly cut short as the pair almost get driven off the road by some assholes in a truck. It’s not his first time dealing with shit like this, and Deacon expertly maneuvers the bike and Sarah to safety. Sarah, however, is freaking out a little.

“Oh my God.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m just. Oh lordy that was close.” She hops off the bike, taking a few strides and a couple deep breaths.

“Hey, you sure you’re okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine just, oh my God.” Her phone starts buzzing in her pocket. She manages to berate whoever gave her the piece of shit truck and gets a tow truck to come pick her up. Deacon offers to drive her back to the truck to wait. She seems skeptical about getting back on the bike.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, alright. I’m sure when those boys come back they’ll be happy to give you a ride, so.”

“Okay, alright, just give me a second,” she says, steeling herself. “Just drive a little careful this time, okay?”

There’s that chuckle again. Deacon smiles as they ride back.

“You weren’t really lost were you?”

“Well that all depends on who you ask. My ex would say I’ve been lost for years.”

“Well you certainly know your way around here.”

“So you’re not from around here?”

“No I’m from Seattle. The company I work for just opened a lab here, so here I came to the middle of nowhere.”

“To research plants.”

“That’s right I already told you. I forgot. So yeah, some of the plants I look at are pretty rare and they just happen to grow here.”

“That has got to be the best thing I’ve ever heard. Oh what the hell?” Deacon says as they pull up to Sarah’s broken car. Three men are rooting around in the engine, most likely looking for parts to sell.

Deacon knows just how this encounter is going to go, and wastes no time getting off his bike and beating up the guys who are stealing shit. Sarah stays on the bike, pulling out her phone in a futile attempt to call someone for help. Deacon, despite his military background and experience with fighting, can’t take on the three men for very long. They’ve soon got him pinned, two holding his arms and the third man punching anything he can reach.

There’s a gunshot that sounds behind him, and Deacon freezes. All three men immediately bolt for their truck and take off, a cloud of dust kicking up behind their truck.

“Oh Jesus, oh my God. Oh no no no.”

Sarah drops the gun amid her panicked chattering, and Deacon turns to face her. His face is bloody, but he’s grateful she managed to find some way to help him.

“Uhhh, hey.”

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I don’t even know--”

“No, no, no, it’s alright”

“I was just looking in your bag and I saw that, and I. Oh my God I could have killed somebody.”

Deacon groans and he bends to pick up the discarded weapon. 

“Well, yeah, but you gotta kinda aim it at them first.”

“I’ve never done anything like that before.”

“Hey, hey, hey,” he puts an arm on her shoulder, hoping to ground her a bit. “It’s okay, they’re gone, they’re gone.

“I just saw it in your bag and I tried to call the police but there were no bars, no reception.”

“Okay, you know what we’re going to do? I’m gonna wait right here until your guy comes.”

“Okay.”

“Thank you.”

“I’ve never done anything like that.”

“Huh, could’ve fooled me.”

He misses Sarah, desperately. But the only thing to do is keep moving forward. Memories are nice, or at least most of them are. But there’s a path forward that might finally give him the closure he’s been seeking for two years. If he can find out what actually happened to her, maybe he himself can finally find some peace. 


	4. Chapter 4

With a determined expression, Deacon fires up his bike. There’s not much he can do with the NERO radio until they call out on it, so back to Marion Forks it is. Time to finally see if he can find that girl.

Deacon pulls up to the statue of a lumberjack leaning on a giant stack of pancakes. It’s close to the creek, which is probably the girl’s water source, and as good a place to start his search as any. Sure enough, he spots some small boot prints in the mud. They lead around the back of an abandoned store.

That’s when he hears the bikes. Rippers, and a lot of them. They seem to flood out of the buildings in Marion Forks, and Deacon suddenly finds himself in the middle of a firefight while still trying to see where the boot prints lead. He can’t let the Rippers get to her before he does. No telling what they would do to her.

He makes his way slowly down the main streak, ducking behind cover and picking off a few Rippers at a time before pushing up. He repeats this process and soon enough he’s on the other side of town. He finds more boot prints passing through the gas station he just cleared of Rippers. He’s still on the girl’s trail. 

There’s five more Rippers circling a house at the edge of town. Deacon figures this is probably the spot. He takes them all down with little remorse, still angry at them for what they did to Boozer and what they might have done with this girl. It feels good to play the hero sometimes.

The house is sealed up very well. All doors are locked and every window is boarded up. That’s probably been the only reason why this girl has lasted this long. Still, she has to leave to go get water, so how does she get in and out? Around the back, Deacon finds a ladder on the ground. If he props it up he thinks he can get to the balcony above. Maybe that door up there isn’t locked.

Sure enough, the door opens right up and lets him into the second story of the house. She’s in the third room he checks, holding a small stuffed animal and curled against her bed.

“Don’t be afraid. I’m not gonna hurt you. Are you alone? Is there anyone else here with you?”

She doesn’t answer him, which is an answer in and of itself. She’s alone. Probably has been since everything went to shit.

“Oh man, okay uh. Is this your room?” he asks, trying to get her to open up. “It’s really great. Are these yours?” 

She doesn’t like when he picks up one of the trophies he was referring to. The name Lisa is engraved on the plaque.

“No! That’s mine,” she says as she snatches it out of his hands and cradles it to her chest. “This one’s for gymnastics.”

It’s the first full sentence he gets out of her.

“Lisa. Lisa, did you hear the gunshots outside? It’s not safe here.”

“I was at school. My mom called and told me to come home right away and not stop. She said they’d be here waiting for me and we’d leave together and I got here and there was a note that said they’d left with some men and I didn’t know what to do. So I hid-- and…”

She breaks down. Deacon is probably one of the first people she’s been able to talk to since being abandoned. Deek doesn’t want to think about how long she’s been alone. She hugs him, crying into his stomach. All he can do is awkwardly put his arms around her in return. If he can bring her a bit of comfort before taking her back to camp, he’ll do what he can.

“It’s alright, it’s okay. It’s okay. Lisa, not far from here there’s a camp.”

She wrenches away from him. Clearly, she’s tied to the idea of staying here, waiting for her parents who are never going to come.

“You should really let me take you there, there are people there, I know them. I’m not going to lie to you, it's a work camp and you have to work to eat but at least you ain’t gonna starve.”

Lisa looks like a cornered animal. The fear in her eyes is tangible and she is definitely trying to look for a way to get around Deacon and out the door.

“No my mom’s coming here I have to wait--”

“Okay is this your mommy?” Deacon points to a picture framed on the wardrobe. “You said she didn’t come home, right? Well maybe, she’s at the camp.”

“Mom is… at the camp?”

Deacon knows she’s not. This girl's parents are long gone. Killed by the Freaks, became Freaks, who knows. He’s lying to her and he hates it. But it’s the only way to get her to come with him.

“She is. I know she is,” Lisa whispers. Deacon will not be the one to break the news.

“Okay, stay close.”

They make their way back down the ladder and into the open street. Freaks have come to feast on the bodies of the dead Rippers, so Deacon has to be smart about killing them while keeping Lisa out of harm’s way.

Back on the other side of town, after fighting their way through all the Freaks, Deacon spots a problem. There’s a bear parked outside the old pancake shop, effectively cutting off the route back to his bike. He instructs Lisa to hide, and she dives into a nearby dumpster. At least she’ll be out of the way while he deals with the bear. The thing is big and intimidating, and his gun really only seems to anger it.

With few other options he rushes to a nearby rooftop. Quickly, he crafts some molotovs, chucking them at the bear. Three molotovs, one exploding barrel and a barrage of bullets later, the bear lays dead under the awning of the gas station across the street. On the bright side, Deacon manages to get quite a bit of good bear meat from the carcass. Some of it’s even cooked already.

Deacon rounds the corner and collects Lisa from her hiding space. He goes back to his bike, ready to drive her back to Tucker.

“I don’t know about this.”

“C’mon kid, we gotta go. Get on.”

“Hey, what’s your name?” she asks as they start driving.

“Deacon, my name’s Deacon. Lisa, how did you live out here alone for all this time?”

She doesn’t answer him. Deacon sighs.

“You don’t talk much do you?”

“My dad’s a rock hound,” she pipes up eventually. “He used to take me out here looking for thunder eggs.”

“Thunder eggs? What’re thunder eggs?”

“They’re rocks, but when you cut them open they’re really pretty inside. We used to go all over looking for them, Belknap Crater, the lava flow. Do you think he’s at the camp too?”

“Uh, I dunno kid. I’m gonna ask you a question and I need you to think real hard. Did any of your neighbors own any firearms?”

“No, men came and took everything.”

“Men? Like those bad guys from before or were they wearing uniforms, like the army?”

“Like the army. But they were all dirty. They called themselves, uh, Deschutes County Militia, they carried flags they made themselves.

“Did they have anyone with them? Women? Children?”

“I don’t remember. Tommy would. He was my best friend. But he’s gone, he left with his dad to hide.”

“It happens kid. Alright, we’re pulling up so just uh, stay with me.”

Tucker greets them at the center of camp as they park.

“Well, who do we have here?”

“Mrs. Tucker!”

“Oh my God, Lisa honey. It’s okay. You’re safe now.”

Lisa wastes no time running to the little old lady, enveloping her in a hug. It’s the brightest Deacon has seen her look since he picked her up. Maybe it won’t be terrible for her here, even once she finds out her parents aren’t here.

“Mom and Dad and everyone got sick and I didn’t know what to do.”

“Shh, shh, you’re safe now. It’s a goddamn miracle. We were neighbors, I knew her parents,” Tuck says, clueing Deacon in.

“Are they here, Mrs. Tucker?”

The question Deacon was dreading.

“Honey, you know the answer to that.”

Lisa swallows hard.

“No, they’re not here,” she confirms, turning back to Deacon. He can see the tears welling in her eyes. He drops his gaze to the ground, unable to look at her.

Lisa leaves with one of Tucker’s lackeys, off to get cleaned up and some food in her belly. Tucker turns to him, thanking him for his job and telling him to go see Alkai if he needs any new supplies. Deacon can’t help but feel protective over Lisa. Something tells him it might have been a mistake bringing her here.

“Hey, hey, listen. She’s been through a lot--”

“Let me worry about how--”

“No, listen to me, seriously. Don’t work her like you do everyone else.”

“Don’t tell me how to run my camp. You wanna move here? You wanna help up run this? Then maybe you get some say. Don’t get soft on me, Deek.”

Deacon leaves, defeated. He feels a pull to go visit Sarah again, loading up his bike for the trip up to the abandoned refugee camp. The sun is just setting as he pulls up, and the walk up to her headstone is blissfully Freak free.

“Uh, hey. Me again. Boozer says that I shouldn’t come up here anymore. He keeps asking me what good’s it do, and I don’t know. Maybe he’s right. He got hurt pretty bad the other day. We ran into some Rippers that burned the hell out of his arm. It looks pretty bad. I broke into one of those, what the hell do you call ‘em, the Mobile Medical Units, and got him some sterile bandages. And I, I hope it’s enough. Boozer, y’know, he says he’s fine. But I don’t-- I don’t think so. Shit looks pretty bad to me. See the thing is, it was on me. I risked his life for a bike part. A goddamn bike part. Not that it mattered, that son of a bitch Copeland parted it out anyway. Took me a year to put that bike together. You would’ve liked it. It wasn’t as nice as the one I taught you to ride on, but it got me around.”

Deacon takes a minute. He’s not sure why, Sarah isn’t here to scold him, but admitting to her that he’s finally lost the last piece of her he had left feels like something he should be ashamed of.

“You remember that old gas tank you had painted for me? Well, that was the only thing left of that old hog, and now it’s-- gone too. Soon as I get it back together, my bike I mean, and get Boozer patched up, we’re gonna ride north. Fresh start. Lotta memories around here. Too many. Anyway. Guess I’m just saying that, uh, I might not see you again, you know?”

He touches the rock before spinning around to walk back to his bike. He’s not quite sure what to do with himself if that is the last time he’ll see Sarah, but at least he gave her some sort of warning. Some justification. Some closure, maybe.

Suddenly, the NERO radio crackles to life.

“O’Brian, check in.”

“This is O’Brian, checking in en route to Metolius Springs.”

That’s all Deacon needs.

“Hey Boozer, you there?”

“Yeah, Deek.”

“I just caught a break, that NERO radio might actually be useful. I know where they’re going tomorrow.”

“Give ‘em hell brother. Remember what Jack used to say, don’t ride faster than your guardian angel can fly.”

“Enh, Jack used to say a lot of stupid shit, Deacon out.”

The next day Deacon crosses back over to Metolius Springs, back near Copeland’s camp. Sure enough, not too far out he spots a chopper riding low. The rotors cut a steady beat overhead. The NERO radio at his hip crackles to life again.

“O’Brian, how much longer we gonna be out here?”

“We just got started, so cool your jets, okay? Let me get back to work.”

_ This has gotta be it. _

Deacon watches as the NERO researcher, as O’Brian steps from the chopper. He’s surrounded by soldiers, as per usual. Deacon takes to the bushes, rushing from cover to cover in an attempt not to be seen. If he gets spotted, it’s all over. While the NERO soldiers might be nearly indestructible, they’re not the brightest, and sneaking by them is pretty easy. They’ve left O’Brian alone after his outburst over the radio, and Deacon figures this will be the best opportunity to confront him.

O’Brian’s hunkered over a deer carcass, spouting off some scientific nonsense that Deacon can’t understand. Deacon can see the radio antenna poking out from O’Brian’s belt. In two silent steps Deacon closes the gap and snatches the antenna. He’s alone with O’Brian at last. He makes to run, but Deacon quickly pulls his gun and trains it at his head.

“Un-uh.”

“What do you want? Stay back.”

“I just want to talk.”

“NERO protocol two dash seven clearly states that when working in quarantine zones if I encounter any civil-- I mean subjec-- drift-- civilians, that I’m forbidden from making contact.”

Deacon has him backed against a tree. He’s got nowhere to run and Deacon is determined to get the information he needs out of him. He taps his gun against the face shield of O’Brian’s hazmat suit.

“Really? That sounded to me like,” he taps twice more, “making contact.”

“Yes. Yes it did.”

“You’re alive.”

“Yes. I am.”

“How? How are you alive O’Brian?”

“What? I, I, I don’t understand.”

“You were there that night. Farewell. The choppers were burning, everyone was dead.”

“NERO protocol two dash seven--”

“They were slaughtered, torn limb from limb.”

“Two dash seven states-- NERO protocol!”

“Alright listen up,” Deacon says, regaining control of the conversation. Of the interrogation. “We’re gonna do this the easy way or the hard way. The easy way, we have a little chat and you give me the information I need. Then you can go back to digging your way through Freaker shit, or whatever the hell else you’re doing out here. The hard way, I crack open your little space suit, and we see what your friends have to say about you breathing in all this ‘contaminated’ air. So what’s it gonna be O’Brian?”

“Yes, okay. Okay.”

Deacon lets the gun drop, glad that O’Brian is finally playing along.

“You remember the rooftop of the old brewery? I put a woman on your chopper. She was wounded.”

“Yes. I remember! A-- A knife wound, she was cut pretty bad.”

“I went to the refugee camp you said you were taking her to. Everyone was dead. So I’m going to ask you again, how did you survive?”

“We weren’t there. We were diverted south to another camp. Like you said, the camp in Belknap was overrun so they moved us south to, uh… a camp outside of Silver Lake.”

“Were there survivors?”

“You mean now? I don’t know. I was transferred to the research unit--”

Deacon points the gun at him again. He’s tired of O’Brian running circles around the information he desperately needs.

“Did she survive?”

“Wait, uh, I, I, I can find out. I can, I can check.” O’Brian finally spots the NERO radio at Deacon’s hip. “You have one of our radios. That’s how you-- I can’t promise anything, but I can check.”

“Uh huh, and I’ll go with you, come on.”

Deacon grabs O’Brian, walking him a few steps back towards the chopper.

“No you can’t, you don’t understand they’ll fucking shoot you.”

“Not before I can shoot you.”

“Okay look,” O’Brian spins around, finally gaining the courage to call Deacon out. “If you’re gonna fucking kill me just do it, okay! I did my job. Okay, that woman, your wife? I put her on oxygen, I gave her IV, I kept her alive. I got in a lot of trouble for that, she was septic, she wasn’t gonna make it. But  _ I _ got her to the MASH unit!  _ I _ saved her goddamn life!”

Deacon lowers the gun again. A call asking for O’Brian to report in crackles over Deacon’s working radio, scaring both men.

“Look you have to go, you don’t know these men. You don’t know what they’re capable of.”

Deacon takes the radio from his belt, holding it up for O’Brian to see. 

“O’Brian. If I don’t hear from you, I don’t care how long it takes. I’m gonna track you down, and I’m gonna do a lot worse than snap off an antenna.”

“I’m sorry about your wife. But you’re not the only one who lost someone that night.”

And then he’s gone, rushing back to the helicopter. Deacon’s not sure if he has accomplished his goal here. He supposes only time will tell. The threads of hope pull at him. 

_ Sarah wasn’t there. _

Maybe that’s the small victory in this mess. At least, maybe, she wasn’t torn apart by the Freaks.

_ She got to the MASH unit. He said he saved her life. _

No, no, no. He can’t let himself wander down that path. It’s too much. It could lead to the same heartbreak over again. The same crushing guilt falling down on him a second time.

Best to move on.

“Hey Deek,” Boozer’s voice calls from the radio.

“Boozeman, a few days ago I asked you if you remembered that NERO asshole, O’Brian.”

“Uh, yeah Deek. It’s all, I dunno, it’s all a bit of a blur.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Get some shut eye Boozeman, I’ll tell you about it later.”

“When are we riding out of here Deek?”

“Soon, real soon, Boozer. As soon as your arm heals we’re gonna be riding the hell out of here.”

“Yeah, okay.”

Boozer’s voice crackles out and Deacon is left alone again. He’s not quite sure what the next move is. He tries the NERO radio once, on the same channel he had heard chatter on before.

O’Brian doesn’t answer.

It’s hours before Boozer comes on the comms again, this time sounding much more awake.

“Hey Deek, what happened with that NERO guy.”

“He’s alive, they got diverted south, away from Three Fingered Jack.”

“What about us? Sarah? Did he remember anything?”

“He remembered Sarah, but he doesn’t know what happened to her.”

“No shit, you don’t think she’s still alive?”

“No, look. I’m not stupid Boozer. I just want to find out, y'know, what happened to her. Where she died.”

“Well hey, maybe you can finally find some peace.”

“I don’t need to find any peace, Jesus, Boozer. I gotta go, alright? Deacon out.”

Deacon spends the rest of the day hunting. He brings enough meat for a week back to O’Leary Mountain. Boozer says he can take care of salting it, but the way he’s shaking in his bed has Deacon worried. It’s been about a week since the Ripper attack, and Boozer still isn’t looking any better. Backup plans start forming in Deacon’s brain.

Deacon finds himself biding his time. He makes the rounds at Cope’s encampment, chasing down an old bounty or two. Eventually he heads back up to Tucker’s place, seeing if she has any work he can do. Deacon hates that his life has become a waiting game. Waiting for Boozer to get better. Waiting for Boozer to get drastically worse. Waiting for O’Brian to finally call him. Waiting, waiting, waiting.

Tucker has a job for him though, so at least he has something to do while he waits. He spots Lisa in one of the fields on his way out of camp. Lisa probably deserves some kind of apology from Deacon, and he finds himself walking in her direction.

“How ya doing, kid?”

“They won’t let me leave,” she whispers to him.

“Why would you want to leave? It’s safe here.”

“I have to get back to work.”

“Yeah, okay.”

She is definitely owed an apology.

He radios in to Boozer after he’s left camp.

“Hey Boozer, any idea where I can find a, uh, a thunder egg?”

“What the hell for?”

“The kid I brought in. I’m trying to cheer her up by bringing her one.”

“Shit I don’t know. Maybe try the gift shop in Belknap Crater. Marion Forks if not.”

“Yeah, okay, thanks.”

The drive is a little out of his way, but Deacon makes the trip anyway. Lisa deserves that much. He’ll have to thank Boozer too, because there is quite a collection of thunder eggs to choose from at the gift shop. Deacon takes a bright blue one, and hopes that Lisa will appreciate the gesture.

He finds her that night back at the camp.

“Lisa, I--”

“Go away.”

“Brought you something.”

“It’s beautiful,” she says, turning the rock over in her hands and examining the crystals at the center. “Will you take me with you? Take me back to Marion Forks?”

“Look. I, I can’t because it’s not safe.”

“I gotta turn in. They make us get up really early for work.”

Deacon can only watch as she disappears into her tent.

With jobs complete at both Cope and Tucker's, Deacon decides it’s time to head back to O’Leary Mountain. Checking in on Boozer is probably a good idea anyway, since he’s been gone for a few days now. Boozer calls in on his way back.

“Hey, Deek, you there? You drop off that rock for the kid?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“She like it?”

“Yeah, made her day, hell, made her fucking year.”

“I bet, Boozer out.”

He tries to call Boozer again about an hour later, to ask if they need any more supplies for the safehouse. Boozer doesn’t answer him this time around.

“Hey,” Deacon says as he walks in. Boozer is up at the window. It’s the first time Deacon has seen him out of bed since he got attacked. “You weren’t answering the radio.”

“Yep.”

“I was just gonna ask--”

Deacon gets cut off by Boozer wobbling his way back to his bunk. He moves to help Boozer get there safely.

“I’m alright, I’m alright. Just, trying to get clear, y’know?”

“You’re burning up.” Deacon can see the sweat staining Boozer’s shirt and dripping down his face.

“Ugh, my head’s pounding like a mother.”

“You’re burning up.” It’s not a good sign. It’s got Deacon instantly uneasy.

“No, no, no, I’m just tired.”

“Okay, stay here. Rest. I’ll think of something.”

“Look, I don’t need a goddamn babysitter, I’m fine.”

Deacon walks out the door, grabbing the railing out on the porch. “Shit, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon, think.”

Everything finds its way back to Sarah.

There was a day, only a little while after they’d started dating. She’d taken him out to go pick some flowers.

“C’mon, I’ll show you what we’re looking for,” she said, bending over to inspect a plant budding from the ground.

“Yup, I found it,” Deacon said, clearly looking directly at Sarah’s ass.

“Haha, c’mon focus.”

“I am focused.”

They both bend down, Sarah showing him just what it is they were after.

“So this one is called Lavandula Angustifolia.”

“Lavender?”

“Yes, well I’m still paying off my student loans so I will stick with Latin. But you could call it that.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Deacon says, nodding. “Get your money’s worth.”

“Okay gimme your hands. So you’re gonna put one hand around the flower.”

“Alright.”

“And put the other hand at the stem, just like that. And then you pull nice and slow.”

“You know, I’ve pulled weeds before.”

“Excuse me sir, this is not a weed. You have to be gentle.”

“But apply pressure.”

“Well yeah, but not too hard. Okay, ready?”

“Mhmm.”

Their hands slide past each other as Deacon pulls the flower from the ground. It looks just as perfect as it had before.

“There you go, that’s perfect,” Sarah says, smiling. Deacon sniffs it and makes a face.

“And it doesn’t smell very good.”

“Boo-hoo. Now you hold onto that, I’m going to go and collect more.”

“So uh, why lavender?” Deacon asks as they walk down the shore of the lake in search of more.

“Well the guys at the lab are pretty excited. They think they have the subspecies which might have mutated monoterpenoids, which produce a modified linool that--”

“That is, oh my. Thank you, Einstein.”

“Sorry. It has a chemical that we can synthesize to make a new medicine that we can use with burn patients.”

“Where I’m from the only weed that you use for medicine is the kind you smoke. You know, Boozer knows a guy up the road with a farm. It’s only about three miles up.”

“Oh, that’s great! Boozer’s gonna wind up in prison and take you with him.”

“So what else do you guys make, like chemical weapons, WMD’s, shit like that?”

“No. No, no, no. Well, at least not me.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s in my contract. None of my research can be used for military purposes. Hey look, this would be a great place to go swimming!” 

Sarah takes off towards the water before Deacon can stop her. Not that he really wants to, because she seems so happy, but...

“Wait, hold on hold on.”

“But look, the water’s going to be great. What’s wrong?”

“Well, I didn’t mean stop that,” Deacon says, referring to the very real possibility that Sarah was just about to strip to go swimming in the lake. 

“C’mon, what is it?”

“It’s a long story.” And a traumatizing one. Not one that needs to be shared with Sarah at this juncture. Simply put, Deacon does not swim anymore.

“Well that’s fine. We can just walk. I like walking.”

They get to talking about the club and Deacon invites her to come visit at some point. He desperately wants to show her his world after she’s shown him hers today.

“You’d like the guy. He’s funny as shit and makes a mean margarita.”

“I don’t know. I have to be at work early on Monday.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll be sure to have us back in your bed by 10.”

Deacon can’t resist the jab, or the smile that pulls at his face. Miraculously, Sarah can’t either.

“Well, how could I refuse an offer like that? Alright, your turn to pick some lavender now.”

“Lavender, you want me to pick the lavender?”

“Yes, and don’t crush them.”

“Oh, I’m gonna crush them.”

He didn’t end up crushing them. It’s a good thing he had a good teacher. Seems Boozer’s fate might just rest in his ability to pick some lavender this afternoon.


	5. Chapter 5

Deacon sets off for one of the lakes surrounding O’Leary Mountain. Luckily, there’s quite a few to choose from around here, and Deacon just hopes at least one of them still has some lavender growing on its shore.

Boozer calls him as he gets to the lake.

“Sorry, I’m kind of out of it. Where did you say you were headed.”

“To one of the lakes. It’s something Sarah showed me a few summers ago. There’s a plant that grows out here, lavender. Grows in the shade around rivers and lakeshores. I’m gonna see if I can find some.”

“Shit, brother. The way my arm’s feeling I’ll try anything. But fuck the lavender, bring something I can smoke.”

“Whatever, I’m gonna find some of it, make a burn pack out of it and you’re gonna shut the hell up about it.”

“Yeah, okay. Sorry, man, just going stir crazy up here.”

“Don’t worry Boozeman. We’re riding north, real soon, you hear me?”

“Yeah. Out.”

Deacon has to be careful. This lake has a nasty horde living at a nearby NERO checkpoint. But, it’s the closest lake to the safehouse. He cuts the engine early, not wanting to wake the Freaks taking refuge in the train car above him. There’s quite a few Freaks meandering around the lake’s edge as well, but Deacon doesn’t have too much of a problem taking them out. The only challenge is doing it silently. 

He doesn’t need a lot of lavender, and he’s found what he needs after picking just two clusters. A quick jog back to his bike and he guns it back up the mountain, this time uncaring if he disturbs the horde. He’s faster than them anyway.

“Hey Boozer, uh--”

Boozer drops his shotgun that he was fiddling with as Deacon walks into the safehouse.

“Goddamnit.”

Deacon doesn’t really know what that was about, and continues on with what he was trying to say.

“It’s a funny thing, I was remembering how a few summers back Sarah took me out to Bear Creek. We were picking lavender and she taught--”

“Pussy.”

Deacon chuckles a bit uncomfortably. “She taught me how to make this salve.”

“Look I got out today, okay? I actually had a look around the mountain. Cleared some traps. My arm’s almost as good as new.”

“Alright, okay. I’m just gonna leave it right here.”

“Hey. Just give me a couple days. We’ll ride up north like you said and get out of this shithole.”

“Sure, yeah.”

Boozer seems determined to go. Deacon doesn’t blame him. At least he seems to be getting better. He’s out of bed more and while his arm doesn’t necessarily look better, the pain of it doesn’t seem to be getting to Boozer as much. A few days more, let Boozer get some strength back in that hand. Then they’ll take off.

Deacon takes the time to do some maintenance on his bike. He cleans up around the safehouse too, packing things up to make everything easier to grab once Boozer is actually ready to go. A call from Tucker eventually halts his work.

“Hey Deek, you there?” She sounds worried.

“Yeah, Tucker, what’s up?”

“We got hit, hard. Rippers, a couple of dozen, maybe more.”

“Goddamn Rippers.”

“That little gal you were so worried about…”

“Lisa? Yeah, Lisa. Wait, hold on, what happened, where is she?”

“Gone. They took her and three others. Alkai followed them as far as he could, but they’re holed up at Belknap Crater. He came back to round up more men, but--”

“Goddamnit, okay look. I’ve seen what those sons of bitches do to hostages, I’m not waiting.”

With his bike already fixed up, Deacon rides as hard as he can, pushing the bike farther than he probably should, considering it’s still a piece of shit bike. He feels slightly responsible for Lisa, and the fact that she’s now facing down Rippers is because he brought her to camp. Because he wouldn’t take her away.

He’s getting her back.

The drive takes most of the day and the sun has set a few hours ago by the time he arrives. He can see the bloody sticks and lumber marking the entrance to the Ripper’s hideout.

_ Where’s the girl you assholes? If you’ve hurt her, I swear to God-- who am I kidding. I’m gonna fucking kill you all whether you hurt her or not. _

He enters the compound without hesitating any longer, the drive over was long enough. Every moment he waits is another chance that Lisa will be harmed or killed.

_ Hang on Lisa, I’m coming. _

Lisa’s backpack and its contents are scattered on the ground outside. Deacon can hear the voices of a few Rippers ahead. One is beating up the body of a poor drifter who had been captured. Deacon isn’t sure if she was one of the others that had been taken from Tucker’s camp, but she isn’t Lisa, so he takes down the Ripper and continues further into the compound.

Two more Rippers guard the entrance into the crater. Deek shows off his marksman skills with two well placed headshots. The crater itself is ominous. Road flares light the way, dousing the rock walls an eerie red. Another dead drifter sits in a chair at the far end of the crater, Rippers still toying with him, cutting him to shreds. They don’t live for long. Lisa isn’t in the crater, the exit depositing him in the main hall of the Ripper compound. 

Deacon fires at the next Ripper he sees, bringing the attention of the next group to him. A small firefight ensues, but Deacon uses his usual tactic of moving behind cover to outflank his opponents. The Rippers don’t stand a chance.

The path is long, winding its way through the valley. It’s a much bigger compound than Deacon thought was here. 

_ No wonder Tucker has been having so many problems with the Rippers. They have definitely established a base here. _

Finally, a ways down the path, Deacon comes to a clearing. There’s a small structure at the end of it. If Lisa is going to be anywhere, that’s where. Rippers walk about, clearly unaware of Deacon’s presence and not thinking anyone would be brave enough to infiltrate their compound. 

_ Think again, assholes, _ Deacon thinks as he opens fire. He makes a final push towards the building, bringing down every Ripper that dares to stop him. There’s a sniper that makes an appearance, laying down covering fire for the Rippers on the ground. Deacon takes advantage of a large boulder lying in the clearing. Taking pot shots from here is simple. Any Ripper advancing at him on the ground has to get funneled through a small channel, and are easy pickings. Others stay behind cover, but Deacon has a better angle, has the better cover. Soon just the sniper is left. Deacon can see the red line of the Ripper’s sight scoping out the area, sweeping back and forth trying to find Deacon again. The red laser leads back to the Ripper’s location, and Deacon pulls out his own sniper. He makes a clean headshot.

Satisfied that he’s cleared out the last of the Rippers here, Deacon makes his way up to the building. He’s steeling himself for the worst, but hoping for the best. She’s tied up just outside the building, she doesn’t look bloody though.

“Lisa? Alright, Lisa.” He sets about cutting the ropes off of her legs and wrists. As he works he catches a glimpse of her face. She has been cut after all. Her lip is split and ‘RIP’ has been carved into her forehead. Tears stream down her face. “Oh man, what have they done to you? Lisa, Lisa?”

He shakes her gently, trying to get her to move, trying to get her to say something, anything. He just needs to know that she’ll be alright.

“Hey, sweetheart--”

Deacon rolls her over and she starts screaming.

“No! No! No!”

“Hey, hey, shut up, shut up,” he says, trying desperately to calm her down, lest she bring down any more Rippers onto them. “Lisa? It’s me, it’s Deacon. Remember? Deacon?”

She quiets, and Deacon can see the recognition dawn in her eyes.

“Okay,” he says, pulling her to her feet. “That’s alright, it’s alright. C’mon. You okay? Goddamnit, can you run?”

He can hear the voices of more Rippers getting closer. No doubt the shootout with the Rippers and Lisa’s screaming alerting them that something’s wrong.

“Do you know where the visitors center is?” he asks her. She nods. “Alright, that’s where my bike is. I need you to run there as fast as you can. Don’t stop.”

“Don’t stop,” she echoes.

“Don’t stop, no matter what. You ready? Huh? Go.”

He pushes her back the way he had come, putting himself behind her in an attempt to shield her from any Rippers trying to prevent their escape. No Rippers come from behind though, instead finding themselves somehow blocking his and Lisa’s path to safety.

Lisa has the wherewithal to duck behind cover as the bullets start flying, and for that Deacon is thankful. Still, she keeps moving forward and Deacon fights hard to keep up with her. He takes out who he can, but more importantly he takes out the Rippers closest to Lisa.

They make it to a series of ledges in the rock at the crater’s edge. Lisa wastes no time scaling them, and Deacon hangs back a moment to cover her escape. This route deposits them back at the compound’s entrance and Deacon marvels at the fact that Lisa even knew this path was here. Rippers are waiting for them at Deacon’s bike. He only hopes they didn’t break any of his shit. Deacon takes them out without even breaking stride and the two of them make a break for his bike. 

“We’re safe now. You okay?” Deacon asks as they climb on and get set to make a return to Tucker’s camp.

“No.”

Yeah, maybe he shouldn’t take her back to Tucker anyway. There’s Lost Lake, but he isn’t exactly welcome there for the time being. Still, it’s worth a shot.

“Listen to me. To the south of here there’s a camp at Lost Lake, it’s nothing like the Hot Springs. Iron Mike, he’s not like Mrs. Tucker.”

“I hated Mrs. Tucker.”

“Huh, well, you wouldn’t be alone there. This is a nice camp, and it’s a safe place.”

“Okay.”

Even after all the shit he’s done to her she still trusts him. Deacon’s not quite sure he deserves it.

“Hold on,” he says as he pulls away, headed distinctly away from the Hot Springs camp.

He gets on his radio. He doubts anyone’s going to answer but getting Lisa to safety, to a place she might actually enjoy, means it’s a necessary step.

“Rikki, Rikki come back. Rikki, you still on this channel? Lost Lake camp come in.”

“Deacon?”

He’s never been more relieved to hear Rikki’s voice.

“Long time no hear. What do you want?”

“Just, meet me, okay? On the Cascade Highway where it intersects with the Old Belknap Road, I’m headed there now.”

“You know what Iron Mike said? The night you and Boozer road out of here?”

“Uh, oh yeah, that. Listen, that’s why I radioed you and not Skizzo. Iron Mike doesn’t even have to know about this. I’ve got a kid here.”

“What?”

“Well, I mean not a kid, a survivor. She’s been out here a long time.”

“You've got a survivor. And you’re bringing her to Lost Lake?”

“No,  _ you’re _ bringing her to Lost Lake. I’m bringing her to you.”

Rikki is quiet. Deacon’s worried he might have lost her signal.

“Rikki, you there?”

“Yeah, okay. I’m on my way. Lost Lake out.”

And suddenly a weight is lifted off of Deacon’s shoulders. He’s going to owe Rikki big time, but he can live with that debt. He turns his head a bit to make it easier for Lisa to hear him as they continue driving.

“You’re gonna like it there kid. It’s like I said, Iron Mike, he’s uh… he likes to yell a lot. But uh, don’t let him bother you. There’s this guy named Skizzo though, if he bothers you,  _ at all _ , you tell Rikki. Or Addy, she’s the camp’s doctor, you tell her. And Addy, she’s good, she’s got medicine. Y’know to clean up those, uh, to clean up those cuts. I mean, you don’t want to get infected. They’re gonna help you out kid, you can count on it. Even if you, well, even if you screw up.”

Deacon’s speaking from experience. Not many people from Lost Lake would offer to help him after he and Boozer left. Rikki, she’s one of the good ones. 

They pull up to the meeting place and don’t need to wait long for Rikki to pull up alongside them. He’s glad to see her again, even if she doesn’t look all that happy to see him. 

“Hey Rikki.”

“Hey Deek. I’m surprised. What, did Tucker give up the slave trade?”

Deacon doesn’t want to answer that.

“Uh, Lisa, this is Rikki. She’s going to take you to a safe place.”

“Nothing has changed, Deek. Iron Mike is not gonna pay you for this.”

“Pay me? Oh c’mon, excuse me,” he says, pulling Lisa’s hands away from his torso so he can get off his bike. “That’s not what this is about. It’s not about collecting a bounty or anything. Can you just take her? Huh?”

“Mm-hmmm. What’s wrong with her, Deek?”

“She was-- she had a run in with some Rippers. I had to--”

“Oh my God.” Rikki climbs off her bike, walking the few steps over to Lisa’s side.

“Hi Lisa. I’m Rikki. Listen, do you like to go fishing?” Lisa nods her head. “I love to go fishing, it’s my favorite thing in the whole wide world. Would you wanna go fishing with me?” Lisa nods again. “Yeah? C’mon, I’m gonna tell you about Lost Lake. It has the clearest water you’ve ever seen.”

Lisa climbs off of one bike and onto another, totally enraptured by Rikki’s charms. Deacon’s thankful. 

“And the fish! Oh my God, the fish in the morning, they jump this high. I’ll show you. When we go, we’re gonna have such a good time. Make sure you hold on tight, ‘kay? Ready?”

“I really appreciate--”

Rikki drives off before he can finish. He probably deserves that. But he does appreciate what she’s doing for him. He can at least rest easy knowing Lisa is out of harm’s way now. All he has to do is come up with a lie for Tucker. She won’t be too happy knowing Lisa’s not coming back. She’d be much less happy knowing Deacon had purposely shipped her away from the Hot Springs.

After the events of the day, Deacon can hear his bunk calling his name. Tucker seems to have other plans though, calling him on his ride back to O’Leary Mountain.

“Deek you there? I would have expected you to be back by now. Did you find the girl, Lisa?”

“No, Tuck, no. The, uh, the Rippers cut her up pretty bad. She, uh, she didn’t make it.”

“Goddamnit. We needed her. Now the digging’s going to get even further behind.”

“Well, look on the bright side, Tuck. You’ve got one less mouth to feed, yeah?”

“You get out there and find me some warm bodies or there won’t be any mouths left to feed. Tucker out.”

_ Yeah, okay, I’m gonna get right on that. _

It’s well into the night when Deacon finally parks his bike at the safehouse. He walks up the steps, yawning the whole way. He’s out as soon as his head hits the pillow. 

Something feels off. He has that strange, off kilter feeling that one gets when being watched. Deacon’s eyes open to the bright of day only to find Boozer standing in the center of the room, shotgun pointed resolutely at the door.

“They’re coming. They wanna, no, they’re on me, they’re gonna--”

“Shit, Boozer, what’s going on?”

Boozer rounds on him, shotgun pointed squarely at Deacon’s chest.

“No! How’d you get in here?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa,” Deacon says, hand raised in Boozer’s direction, trying to calm him down.

“You stay right there! Stay there!”

“Boozer, it’s me. It’s Deek. Just calm down.”

“Don’t come any closer. I will kill you.”

“Let’s just talk. It’s alright.”

Deacon slowly lifts himself from his bed. Easing himself into a better position, he keeps his hand outstretched. In one swift move the hand he had raised bats the end of the shotgun away, pointing it anywhere but at him as he struggles with Boozer over control with the weapon.

“Give me the gun, buddy.”

“No! No! I will not!”

A shot rings out as Boozer pulls the trigger. It sends wood from the roof splintering, pieces catching them both in the face. It’s the distraction Deacon needs to wrench the shotgun away as Boozer falls to the floor with a cry.

“Fuck!”

“Oh shit. Oh Jesus Christ, Boozer. What the fuck?”

“I-- I heard them. I heard voices.”

“Oh shit. Oh shit. Shit.”

“I mean, Deek, you heard ‘em, right?”

“No, I didn’t hear shit. Boozer, you’ve got blood poisoning.”

“I do not,” Boozer refuses, shifting his arm to reveal dark blue veins underneath his skin. 

_ Not good. _

“Yes, you do Boozer. Just take a look.”

“I don’t need to take a look, I’m--”

“C’mon, we gotta get you some help.”

Deacon offers a hand to Boozer, still on the floor from their scuffle.

“Look, I don’t need some--”

“C’mon.”

Boozer takes his hand, struggling to get to his feet and grumbling the whole time.

“Damnit, I don’t need help.”

Despite his protests, the two make their way out of the safehouse and towards Deacon’s bike. Boozer is the first to break the silence.

“I’m sorry about that. About trying to blow your head off. I mean, I thought I saw something, y’know?”

“Easy, hey. Watch the steps.”

“I got this. I could hear ‘em Deek. Footsteps just, pounding in my head. Boots.”

“Just a few more steps.” 

“I don’t need any help, I can goddamn walk.”

“Okay, okay,” Deacon relents despite Boozer’s obvious shuffling.

“I, I just-- I don’t know what happened. I, I saw ‘em. So many of them. Just all coming, y’know?”

“Yeah, now c’mon. Get on, we gotta go.”

“Wait wait, what? Where are we going, I don’t--”

“It’s just a short ride, Boozer. It’ll help clear your head.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay. Be good to get some air.”

The Mongrels both climb onto Deacon’s bike. Copeland’s camp is still reeling from their last Ripper attack. It’s unlikely he’ll have anything to spare to help Boozer. Tucker is probably more likely to spare supplies, but Deacon doubts his abilities to combat blood poisoning on his own. They need a doctor. 

There’s only one doctor left.

Back at Lost Lake. Iron Mike’s. They need Addy and Deacon’s not sure he’ll even be allowed to set foot in camp to ask her for help. It’s Boozer’s only shot. Deacon will do what he has to.

“Deek, where we headed?”

It’s probably a good idea to keep Boozer talking. If he’s talking that means he’s alive and after the scare this morning Deacon needs that confirmation.

“You remember when we first road out of Farewell? What that was like?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“The highways, they were all choked up with cars. There were so many people, all on the move. Thinking that if only they could go fast enough, that they’d outrun what was coming.”

“Yeah.”

“No one could move fast enough, Boozer. No one saw it coming the way I did. So by the time they said ‘fuck it’ and started walking, and then running. It was too late.”

“Yeah, too… late.”

“And I remember watching the Freaks. Watching them all come, thousands of ‘em. And all those dumb shits just got swallowed up.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“When you see a thing like that, you know it’s only a matter of time before it’s our turn. And nothing’s gonna stop it, Boozer. Not a goddamn thing. But do you know why we keep going?”

“No.”

“Because what the hell else are we gonna do?”

“Yeah.”

Deacon’s run out of shit to stay. But Boozer seems content to watch the scenery pass by in silence for a while. Deacon is hyper aware of every move Boozer makes behind him, not able to stop worrying about him. 

Deacon makes a pit stop just outside of the Lost Lake camp. They’re far enough away that the light and smoke of their campfire shouldn’t arouse suspicion. And keeping Boozer here for the night will let Deacon scope the camp out. Maybe Addy has some strong antibiotics that he can steal for Boozer and Boozer won’t have to set foot in camp at all. More importantly, Iron Mike will never have to know. That's the best case scenario. Worst case, Deacon gets caught and Iron Mike makes good on the promise he made when he and Boozer left nearly a year ago.

There’s still some time to kill before it gets dark. So Deacon sets Boozer up, rolls out a sleeping pad, gets some food out for him. He even has time to take a knife to his beard.

“Oh, ho. What are you doing?” Boozer asks. " Figured you’d get all prettied up before heading in?”

“Oh, you know. Figured I’d stop in at the lodge, have a few beers, and just stroll into the infirmary. No, no, no, I’m just sick of it.”

“Okay, I’m just fucking with you. Hey, Deek? Iron Mike said he’d kill ya if he ever saw you again. And if he said it--”

“Ah, that old man doesn’t remember his name half the time.”

“No, no, he’ll remember.”

“Hey, you gotta stay awake. We’re off the open road, but if a Freaker wanders by--”

“Yeah, yeah, I know. Don’t you kill anyone in the camp, okay?”

It’s an odd request coming from Boozer. But he wasn’t planning on killing anyone tonight. Hell, he wasn’t planning on anyone even seeing him tonight.

“I’m not gonna kill anyone. You good?”

“Never better.”

Deacon starts down the path to Lost Lake and it isn’t long before he runs into two men out on patrol for the night. He follows behind them at a safe distance. They’re talking about some disaster patrol from awhile back. Deacon learns Addy’s brother got killed. He doesn’t plan on seeing her to give his condolences, not that sentiments like that mean much anymore.

The outskirts of the camp have quite a few guards, but they’re all spread out. Deacon tosses a few rocks as distractions and soon finds himself in the more populated areas of the camp. Drifters amble about along with some more camp guards. It’s a tight squeeze with a tricky cut across the camp’s main path, but Deacon makes it. He takes refuge in a bush and hears two very familiar voices passing by.

Skizzo and Iron Mike.

Not great news. Skizzo’s still up to his old shit, trying to convince Mike that the Rippers are out there harassing their supply runs despite Mike’s treaty with them. Deacon can almost guarantee that Skizzo’s actually telling the truth here, but Iron Mike is having none of it.

He follows the two straight to the infirmary, apparently they were wanting to talk to some of the men who had survived the supposed Ripper attack. Addy isn’t around though, so they leave to come back later. Which gives Deacon the perfect opportunity to pick the lock and slip right in.

It doesn’t take him long to find Addy’s stash of supplies, however he takes too long parsing through it all looking for what he needs. He hears their voices and knows his time is already up, so he gives up and grabs the whole container.

“Hi Rikki. Hi Addy. Uh, I don’t want any trouble, so if you ladies would just step aside, I’ll find my way out.”

“No, no--” Rikki starts, only halting as Deacon waves his gun at her. “Oh, you gonna shoot me now?”

“What the hell are you doing in my infirmary?” Addy finishes.

“Wait, wait,” Rikki says, calling Deacon out on his bluff. “There’s a code right? You can’t shoot a woman unless you have to.” She pulls her own gun out of its holster and levels it at him. “Well now you have to.”

“Ah, shit,” Deacon lowers his weapon, not willing to start a fight here. “Okay, look, why don’t you just let me explain.”

“Check what’s in the cooler,” Rikki tells Addy.

Deacon sighs, knowing what they’re going to find. And how it’s going to look.

“What, are you selling narcotics for Tucker now? Y’know, when you brought me that girl, I thought you had changed. But clearly you haven’t.”

“No,” Addy pipes up from behind them. “It’s not narcotics. It’s antibiotics.”

“What?”

“Boozer’s sick,” Deacon explains. “He’s got blood poisoning. I had no place else to go.”

“Blood poisoning?” Rikki questions, still not wholly convinced. “What happened?”

“Does it matter?” Addy asks.

“I fucked up.” Boozer’s injury is absolutely on Deacon’s shoulders. Deacon risked his life and now look what’s happened.

“Bring him in,” says Addy. Rikki looks at her and Deacon doesn’t take offense at the disbelief written all over her features. “Go and get him, bring him here.”

“No, we can’t do that,” Rikki tries to object.

“Yes, we can. Look, I don’t care who he is and I don’t care what Iron Mike thinks. When a man is sick, a man is sick.” She pulls at Rikki’s arm, finally getting her to lower the gun trained at Deek. “We have to look out for each other. Baby, it’s all we’ve got.”

Rikki escorts him out, offering to give him a ride back to Boozer.

“Which way we headed?”

“You remember there was a small camp just where you enter the valley?”

“Yeah, I remember.”

Deacon catches a closer look at Rikki’s ride. He’d been a little preoccupied with Lisa the last time he’d seen it.

“You call this a bike?”

“It may not be a fancy drifter bike, but it gets the job done. Get on.”

They’re both quiet as Rikki guides them out of camp. Deacon can think of only one topic to talk about.

“So how’s she doing? The girl I brought in, Lisa? Are you gonna take me to see her?”

“No.”

“Oh, goddamnit Rikki, what the hell. Why not?”

“I can’t. She’s not here.”

“Wha-- hold on for a second, what? Where is she?”

“A few days ago Skizzo assigned her to a scavenge run. She and three others headed over to the Rogue Camp to look for supplies. They came back without her.”

“You’re telling me they left her? They left her? Out in the shit?”

“They didn’t leave anyone. They said she ran off.”

“Jesus.”

“It could have been anything. Wolves, Freaks, Rippers, choose your poison.”

“What was Skizzo thinking, sending her out on a supply run?”

“Everyone’s gotta work Deek, that’s the deal and you know it.”

“I don’t believe this shit. Look, she’d been surviving in Marion Forks for years before I found her.”

“Yeah? Well maybe you should have left her there.”

_ Yeah… maybe. _

But they’ve gotten back to Boozer, and the conversation changes topics.

“Who’s there?” Boozer calls.

“It’s me.”

“Get back, don’t make me blow your goddamn head off.”

He lifts his shotgun at Deacon and Rikki, causing both to jump back. Obviously, it’s gotten worse in the hour or two Deacon has been away.

“Oh, hey. Hey, it’s uh, it’s Rikki. You remember me? I rode with you guys a year ago?”

“Rikki… Tumalo?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s uh, Tumalo to… to Lost Lake.”

“Yeah, yeah man.”

Boozer’s gun drops and both Rikki and Deacon make a cautious approach.

“That’s right. How you doing there, Boozer?”

“Oh, just peachy.”

Deacon takes a breath to say something but Rikki raises a hand to silence him. She clearly has the situation under control.

“It still didn’t give you the right to steal our shit,” she finally says to Deacon.

“Are you kidding me? Look at his arm, what was I supposed to do?”

“I dunno, maybe ask? Jesus, look at you guys, the biker boys. The most badass drifters in the shit, right? And now you come back crawling to Iron Mike-- Oh wait! If he’ll let you.”

She lets out a laugh as Deacon scrambles for any kind of answer or excuse. He comes up empty.

“C’mon, just help me get him back to Addy.”

Deacon offers a hand out to Boozer, “C’mon pal.”

He slaps his hand away.

“Don’t need your help.”

Boozer, to his credit, does manage to stumble his way back to Deacon’s bike. The three are off a moment later. With Boozer on his way to get some help, Deacon’s thoughts turn to their inevitable run in with Mike. Deek’s not exactly optimistic.

“Where are we going?” Boozer asks once they’re underway.

“Addy said, she’s agreed to look at your arm and see what she can do.”

“What, no, no. You’re not taking me to some goddamn camp. I can ride, goddamnit.”

“We’re not stay-- Boozer it’s just for a few days. Get some shit for your arm and then--”

“No. You know what it’s like there Deek.”

“You’re not thinking straight. This isn’t the Hot Springs, it’s Lost Lake. Iron Mike, remember him?”

“Iron Mike? He’s gonna get us killed. You said--”

“That was a long time ago, they built the place up. Got more people.”

“We’re all gonna fucking die.”

“We’ll be long gone before anything like that happens. Camp’s got the only doc in a hundred miles. And Addy, look, she’ll take care of it.”

“Just a couple days. Then we ride the hell out of here. Ride north, like you said. Get the hell away from all this.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we ride north. Leave all this shit behind.”

It feels strange riding through the gates of the Lost Lake camp. It’s been a year, and they hadn’t exactly left as friends. Still, Deacon’s grateful that Addy is willing to take the risk and treat Boozer. 

Rikki and Deacon get Boozer settled in the infirmary with Addy. Once he’s settled and out like a light the three of them walk back outside and escape the sickly smell of the infirmary.

“I’m gonna head back in and check on him, make sure he’s okay,” Addy says.

“Coward,” Rikki says. Addy pushes her shoulder forward, knocking Rikki off balance for a moment.

“You got that right.”

“How long?” Deacon asks before she disappears again. “Until he can ride, I mean.”

“You mean how long do you have to be here? Look, we have antibiotics but, it’s not enough. If Iron Mike lets you stay, your friend will have a chance.”


	6. Chapter 6

“So what happened? How’d he burn his arm like that?” Rikki asks as she and Deacon walk. Deek knows he’s being led to face Iron Mike’s judgement, but it’s necessary if he and Boozer want to stay. Necessary if Boozer’s going to live.

“We ran into some Rippers, south of Belknap. Guess they didn’t like his tattoos.”

“Jesus. I’ve heard about them doing shit like that to themselves, but not to people they’re trying to recruit.”

“Boozer wasn’t any goddamn recruit.”

“Well, guess Tucker should’ve made a deal with them like Iron Mike.”

“C’mon, Rikki. He just doesn’t get it. Carlos isn’t going to honor any deal with Lost Lake. Not for long anyway. And Mike, he just doesn’t see it.”

“He sees more than you think. You’ve always had your good side Deek, you’ve just been doing your best to kill it.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

They make it up the hill to Mike’s lodge and walking up the wooden steps feels a lot more like Deacon is walking his own funeral procession than it has any right to. He and Rikki walk in to Skizzo and Mike having their own conversation.

“You cannot believe a word he is going to say. Addy is soft. Mike, we do not have enough for those that pull their own weight, let alone a goddamn cripple.”

First chance he gets, Deacon’s going to hurt Skizzo.

“He’s not a cripple. He can work. He--”

“I say we throw them out on their asses.”

“Mike, that is not who we are,” Rikki intervenes.

“Jesus, listen to you. And you,” Skizzo rounds on Deacon. “Tired of being Tucker’s little bitch, finally? Huh?”

“Raymond, stop it,” Rikki tries, utilizing Skizzo’s real name and not the bullshit one he likes to be called.

“Don’t call me that.”

“I’m pretty tired alright,” Deacon says, pulling out his gun to threaten Skizzo with.

Skizzo returns the favor, hoisting his sidearm at Deacon. “See?”

“Alright, enough!” Mike shouts, standing from his desk.

“See! You know who the fuck this guy is and you know what he’s--”

“You hold on! And you!” Mike points a weathered finger at Deacon, “You put that shit away.”

No point in getting on Mike’s bad side more than he already is. Deacon holsters his weapon. He turns to leave, not liking his chances of getting Mike’s permission to stay.

Rikki tries to help. “Mike, Deacon was the one who brought me the girl--”

“I know, I know.” Mike’s attention turns to Skizzo, who still has his gun trained loosely at Deacon. “And I know what kind of man he is, what he’s done. He done any worse than you? Rikki? How ‘bout me? We’ve all been out in the shit, Skizzo. We’ve all done things we’re not proud of.”

“We need another rider,” Rikki supplies.

Not exactly happy with being volunteered to work, Deacon comes back to rejoin the conversation. “Now wait a minute. I just need a few days and some antibiotics.”

Rikki’s clearly displeased with him. Deacon can tell she’s calling him a stupid asshole in her head. It’s enough to make him relent.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

“Sure, Mike. Whatever you say. I’m on board.”

Deacon rolls his eyes. Skizzo was always an ass kisser.

“Walk with me,” Mike says to Deacon as he passes, leaving the room and exiting the lodge. Obediently, Deacon follows.

Skizzo and Rikki start getting into it as he and Mike leave. Skizzo’s not happy with his return or his breaking into the infirmary last night. He’s just glad he’s still found a friend in Rikki and has someone to defend him in his absence. Skizzo and Rikki never much liked each other anyway, figures this would just be another thing for them to fight over.

“Rikki told me you stopped running for Tucker. Sent that little girl here instead.”

“I’m sorry I lied to you before. About doing runs for Tucker.”

“How long you been drifting, you and Bill?”

“I don’t know. Like I said, time gets lost.”

“If folks don’t put down some roots, figure this shit out, grow some food, come next spring? Won’t be none of us left.”

“If you give Boozer what he needs, lets us hole up here until he can ride, like I said, I will do  _ whatever _ you need. I just, I want you to know that as soon as he’s patched up, we’re gonna put together some gear. We’re gonna ride north.”

“North huh?”

“There’s a camp up there, up near Smith Rock. Boozer’s never been there, anyway. Got a lot of ghosts down here, it’s time we move on.”

“Fresh start, eh? Yeah, guess I can respect that. Go on, I got some shit to do.”

“Sure, Mike. Just have Rikki radio me if you need something.”

Deacon heads back to the infirmary. He’s got nothing else to do and if Boozer’s awake he can at least share the good news. Iron Mike won’t be killing them. Better yet, they’re allowed to stay.

Addy spots him before he can make his way over to Boozer’s cot in the back. He can see Boozer sleeping peacefully back there, so no point in going to wake him up.

“Deacon, hey. Is everything okay? What’s wrong?”

“Uh, actually that’s not why I’m here.” Well, it  _ was _ why he was here, but he figures if Boozer’s doing fine right now that he can spare some time and see if Addy needs anything. He is trying to be helpful around camp after all. “Came by to see if you needed anything. For the, uh, infirmary.”

“Actually, we’re running low on everything. I mean, we could always use more meds, sterile bandages, instruments. Uh, here.”

She pulls a well worn note from her desk. It’s got markings all over it, supplies crossed off and re-added as they’re needed again. One instrument in particular catches his eye.

“Hmm, a Liston knife?”

“Yeah, it was used by doctors in the Civil War to perform operations in the field.”

“Operations?”

“Yeah. Y’know, they didn’t have any anaesthesia or laudanum. I wrote down where you might be able to find one.”

Addy passes him a pamphlet for the visitor’s center of Sherman’s Camp. Deacon can’t help but laugh.

“Sherman’s Camp, yeah. The place crawling with all the Freakers. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Deacon.” He turns to face her. “Thank you.”

He gives her a nod before heading out. The  _ happy to help _ goes unsaid.

With not much else to do, Deacon decides to go scope out Sherman’s Camp. If he’s quiet enough maybe he’ll be able to avoid the horde that calls the place home.

A ways outside of camp, Deacon’s radio cracks with life.

“Hello, hello? Anyone on this channel?”

It’s not Deacon’s personal radio. It’s the NERO one at his hip.

_ Finally, O’Brian. _

“O’Brian, is that you?”

“Yes, yeah, it’s O’Brian. You still have one of our radios. Good. Okay, look. I’m gonna try and help you. To find out about the woman--”

“Sarah Whitaker,” Deacon says, anticipating O’Brian’s question. “I put her on your chopper that night.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. Okay. But, first you gotta do something for me.”

“Wait, what? You need something from me?”

“Look, there’s a digital display on your radio. I’m gonna send you a coded message, coordinates. Meet me at that location.”

“O’Brian, what the hell is this all about?”

“Just meet me there. There will be NERO soldiers all around me like before, don’t let them see you. O’Brian out.”

Well shit. Guess he’s just got to wait on those coordinates. Sherman’s Camp in the meantime. 

The saving grace is that the visitor’s center happens to be at the very edge of town. Still, Deacon is wary about being too loud with the horde lurking somewhere deeper down the streets. The center is boarded up well, the only way of entry being the fire escape ladder up to the second story.

Deacon has to shoot the latch to let the ladder fall, which brings down a torrent of Freaks on him. He climbs the ladder quickly, taking advantage of the Freak’s inability to climb anything other than large items. A single molotov burns all of the ones gathered at the ladder’s base and a few bullets take down the stragglers.

There isn’t much left within the visitor’s center itself, the place having been picked clean. Deacon does manage to find a Liston knife though, buried under some other Civil War memorabilia in an unbroke case. He shatters the glass and is careful not to cut himself on it as he retrieves the special knife.

He gets out of Sherman’s Camp as quickly as possible, not wanting to risk encountering the horde any more than he has to. Maybe one day he’ll come back and clear it out, but today is not that day.

Once Deacon is sufficiently clear from the Freaks he radios Addy, letting her know that he’s on his way back with her knife. He meets her back at the infirmary. She’s thankful and Deacon is glad that he can be of some help to someone. He is actually happy to help, and despite it all, he’s glad to be back at Lost Lake. It’s probably the closest he and Boozer ever came to settling down anywhere. That’s why their leaving a year ago made tensions draw that much tighter. Why their leaving felt more like a betrayal.

With Addy’s task completed, Deacon checks the NERO radio. Sure enough, the coordinates are there, just like O’Brian said they would be. Deacon refuels his bike and sets off in search of some more answers, no telling what O’Brian might need him to do.

Despite all of O’Brian’s talk, the NERO soldiers around him don’t do shit in terms of actually protecting him. Deacon approaches with almost no caution necessary.

“Alright, I’m here.”

“Jesus, don’t, don’t sneak up on me like that.”

“Did you find out anything about Sarah? About the woman I put on your chopper?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

Deacon takes a few steps towards O’Brian.  _ How could he have found nothing. _

“Hey, hey, wait. It’s gonna take some time, okay? I’m risking my neck here. If anyone back at HQ finds out? Those guys with the guns over there…”

“You’re all on the same team, O’Brian.”

“It just looks that way. Look, I don’t have time to explain it right now, but,” O’Brian holds out a small yellow package. It looks like a test kit of some kind, Deacon’s not really sure. “It’s why I need your help.”

“My help--”

“Look, just take it. It’s a wavelength recorder and some GPS trackers, I just need you to--”

The chatter of the NERO soldiers grows as they return, cutting their meeting shorter than Deacon would like.

“Alright, we’re out of time. Shit, I don’t even know your name.”

“Deacon, Deacon St. John.”

“Yeah, well look, Deacon St. John. If you want me to risk my neck helping you find whatever her name, uh, Sarah? Then, yeah, I’m gonna need you to do something for me.”

The kit falls into Deacon’s hands, much as he debates refusing it.  _ For Sarah _ , he reminds himself.

“Okay, keep that radio close, I’ll contact you in a couple of minutes.”

And once again, O’Brian disappears into the throng of NERO soldiers down the hill. But, true to his word, O’Brian gets on the radio just a few moments later.

“Hello? Deacon you there?”

“Yeah, now what’s this all about?”

“Alright, I put a blocker on this channel, it’s secure.”

“What do you want?” Deacon asks again, patience running thin.

“I’ve sent a series of coordinates to your radio. I need you to go to those locations and--”

“What, why?”

“Just listen to me. There are several NERO tasks groups doing work in the field. I need to know what they’re doing.”

“Then why don’t you ask them?”

“I can’t. Look. I said it’s a long story and I don’t have time to get into it right now. Let’s just say, the men above me, way above me, are running a lot of field missions, all separate from each other. Nobody knows what anyone else is doing.”

“So the world ends and you assholes carry on like nothing’s changed. Where?”

“I sent you the coordinates.”

“Alright, Jesus. I’ll see what I can do.”

“Just get to as many of them as you can. There are active LZ’s, landing sites, sample drop off locations…”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it. But you better have something for me, O’Brian.”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it too.”

It takes him an hour to get to the first location, and immediately Deacon finds himself tailing another black chopper.

“What’s going on O’Brian? Why am I out here in the shit chasing down choppers for you?”

“The destination is classified, I’m locked out of their files. I can’t give you the coordinates to their LZ. You have to follow them in. Don’t lose them.”

“What? Don’t you guys have spy satellites, shit like that?”

“I told you, I’m locked out.”

“Yeah, alright. I’ll stay on their tail.”

“O’Brian, they’re landing.”

“Okay, I’ve got their coordinates via your radio. You better go in on foot.”

“On foot?”

“Remember, you can’t let them see you.”

Deacon heeds O’Brian’s words and parks his bike. He starts making his way towards the house the chopper has landed by. 

“Alright, O’Brian. I’m here, what do you want me to do?”

“Each team has a researcher, like me, all guarded by a bunch of goons. I need you to get close to the researcher. The wavelength recorder is set to the channel we use to record data, it’ll record everything they’re doing.”

“Okay, so you want me to sneak into an LZ, filled with heavily armed, Kevlar wearing soldiers who shoot on sight, so you can spy on some asshole wearing a pocket protector?”

“Pocket protector, really? I have a fucking PhD, you asshole.”

“Yeah, which stands for piled high and deep.”

O’Brian lets Deacon’s comment slide. Probably for the best if he’s ever going to actually get around to doing what O’Brian needs him to.

“Do you still have the tracking devices I gave you?”

“Oh, I was gonna sell ‘em. But most of us don’t have access to shit like, I dunno, satellites.”

“Place one of them on their helo. Almost all of these filed missions have stops that aren’t on the books. I want to find out where they’re going next.”

“O’Brian--”

“You don’t need to ask. I’m already looking into records about where evacuees were taken. O’Brian out.”

_ Alright then. Just what the hell are you guys doing out here? _

Deacon manages to skirt around the single soldier blocking his way to the chopper. Placing the GPS isn’t hard, and Deek is back in the cover of the bushes a moment later. There’s a gazebo out front that Deacon ducks behind, using it as a place to hide as he throws a rock back towards the chopper. The NERO guard leaves his position on the path to go check the disturbance and Deacon runs by him. More bushes hide his location as he gets close enough to the researcher, tuning in to his field notes.

They have a Freak on a table. The researcher is spouting off some bullshit about it being an albino and having a 40% greater muscle mass than normal Freaks. Bleachers, he calls them. 

_ Great, now the Freaks are mutating. _

It was bound to happen eventually. That’s what life does, it evolves. Only this time, it’s going to make life a lot harder for the humans still trying to live on this goddamn planet.

Deacon makes his escape, retracing his steps and avoiding the same guards. Once he’s clear of all NERO personnel, he radios in to O’Brian.

“What the hell O’Brian?”

“What’s wrong?”

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong. Your boys are carving out Freaks on a table.”

“Those are not my boys. And what do you care? What is it you like to call yourselves? Drifters? Don’t you kill the infected for money, or whatever shit you barter with?”

“Yeah, I kill Freaks. I don’t carve ‘em open while they’re still alive and listen to them scream.”

“Did you get my data?”

“Yeah. I got your data.”

“Okay, I’m uploading it now. I’ll be in touch, O’Brian out.”

Deacon’s getting pretty fed up with the way O’Brian keeps dodging him. Can’t even have a fucking conversation with the guy without him cutting the call early. He tries to reach him a few more times, but Deacon is only met with static.

_ Ah, shit. You better be in touch, O’Brian, and soon. _

There’s not a ton on Deacon’s docket right now. He could head back to camp, see if Boozer’s awake yet, or if Rikki or Addy need any more help. He remembers his conversation with Rikki, the one about Lisa. Rikki had mentioned Rogue Camp. His search for the NERO chopper has brought him decently close to its location. Maybe he can find some clues as to where Lisa actually ran off to if he goes to check it out. See if she’s even still alive.

There’s Freaks everywhere, in the roads in the abandoned houses. Deek can’t really find a good path through without taking them all out. So, he does what he does best, and hunts some Freaks. 

He tracks some footprints that he thinks matches Lisa’s across the camp. He finds a truck blocking the entrance of a garage. He pushes it out of the way and crawls under the raised garage door. There’s a bookshelf pulled across the main hallway inside the house. Deacon shimmies past it, finding two bedrooms behind it. In one, what looks like was once some kid’s bedroom, he finds a note. 

It’s in Lisa’s handwriting.

_ I want to Forget. _

It sounds like something she would write. After all she’s been through, he understands that feeling.

There’s sounds of bikes riding past the house as Deacon squeezes back past the bookshelf. Drifters or Rippers, neither sounds all that appealing. Regardless, Deacon is ready to face them in order to get back to his bike.

Whoever they are, they aren't very smart. Shots ring out across camp, bringing many Freaks down on them. Deacon waits until the shots die down, letting Freaks and drifters destroy each other before going out and cleaning up whoever comes out on top. 

It’s the Freaks, it’s always the Freaks. The drifters lay dead in the street outside the house as Deacon runs by, popping the few Freaks left over. It’s a simple ride back to Lost Lake. Time to go check on Boozer again.

Deacon pops the door open, ready to see Boozer and wake him up if he hasn’t gotten up yet.

“Hey, I came by to see how the lazy bastard is doing,” he says to Addy as he approaches her spot at Boozer’s bedside. “How you doing, Boozer? Tired of laying around yet?

Boozer’s groaning, clutching his arm. He doesn’t look good. He’s pale and sweating again. It’s definitely not what Deacon was expecting to see and Addy tries to block his view as much as possible.

“Hey, Boozer?”

“You can’t be in here Deacon,” Addy says, placing her hands on his shoulders and walking him back towards the door.

“I’m not--”

“C’mon, Deacon.”

“I don’t wanna, how’s he doing?”

“Deacon. He needs his rest.”

“Don’t mess around with me, Addy. I asked you, how is he doing?”

“I’m good, I’m good,” Boozer says, shivering. He looks uncomfortable and the guilt hits Deacon anew. He’s anything but good.

“Not good,” Addy corrects.

Boozer rolls back onto his side, “Damn, it’s cold.”

“But the antibiotics--” Deacon starts.

“They’re not enough. They’re never enough.”

“Now wait a second. You said that if I--”

“I said that we would try. Look, all we can do is wait.”

“Wait. Okay. Alright.”

Boozer’s calling him.

“Y’know what, there’s something I can do about it,” he says, moving back towards Boozer.

“Deacon, Deacon.”

“I can get--”

“Stop. Stop!”

“What?!”

“I know you want to smash something,” Addy says. “I can see that look in your eyes. But you know what? You go right ahead, but you do it out there.”

She’s pointing out the door and Deacon knows she’s right. Knows it would be more useful than breaking something in here.

“Addy, I can--”

“Go. Look, there is nothing else you can do. Please, just go home. Go home, Deacon.”

He walks out of the infirmary, feeling more defeated that he expected to after bringing Boozer to Lost Lake. It’s still a waiting game. Deacon hates waiting.

Boozer’s still calling for him as Addy closes the door behind him. Boozer’s voice sticks in his head.

Skizzo’s out front, and probably the last person Deacon wants to see right now. But he’s there and he’s asking about Boozer. Maybe Skizzo’s found a way to put Deacon’s past mistakes aside and focus on what really matters now.

“How’s he doing? He gonna make it?”

“Yeah, Skizzo, he’ll be fine. He just needs time.”

“Alright. Come with me to the lodge, I gotta show you something.”

Deacon’s not really interested in whatever Skizzo has. It’ll probably just get him in more trouble than he really needs right now.

“I got shit to do.”

“I’m sticking my neck out here. Trust me, you’re gonna want to see this.”

The last thing Deacon does is trust Skizzo, but he follows him anyway. Morbid curiosity and all that.

“Just, just listen,” Skizzo starts his story. “Couple of months back, a drifter comes into camp telling all kinds of stories. Said he worked in the airport, was on the ground back in Farewell when shit went down. One night, they were expecting a flight in from Portland, only it never shows up. The plane? Was doing a haul for the Red Cross.”

“The Red Cross?”

“Yeah, you getting it?”

Deacon’s getting it. He’s just not sure where he fits in yet. If there’s a shit ton of medical supplies just sitting around, why hasn’t anyone gone to get it yet?

“There’s medicine, doctor shit, a cargo hold full of it. Maybe even some of those anti-whatever the fucks.”

“Antibiotics.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, shit like that. Just like that.”

“Where?”

“Keep your voice down, will ya?” Let’s talk inside.”

The two of them walk into Mike’s lodge. There’s a small map sitting on Mike’s desk. Deacon knows better than to ask where Mike is.

“So this drifter, he’s working in the control tower when the plane disappears off the radar. Poof,” Skizzo imitates, “now you see it, now you don’t. Right about, here.”

There’s a small circle drawn on the map. Deacon knows the area.

“South of Mount Washington.”

“That’s what he said. It came down intact. A controlled crash or whatever. Guy’s got to listen to the pilot bleeding out from a broken pelvis on the ground.”

“Okay, so you haven’t sent anyone to go and find this.”

“Nope.”

“Why not?”

“‘Cause the old man won’t have it.”

“Iron Mike? What the-- oh, right. Rippers.”

“You catch on quick. Everything west of the Iron Ridge here belongs to Carlos and his merry band of bald headed freak-a-likes.”

“Shit.”

“So, you go over there and you get caught? You head north, brother. Otherwise, Iron Mike’s treaty with Rest In Peace goes pffffftttt, just like that.”

“No, no, no, I get it. Let me ask you a question. Why are you telling me this?”

“Oh, wait a minute. First off, I’m not telling you shit. You remember that. Second off, you’re a goddamn drifter. What am I supposed to do, follow you around like I’m your little bitch? Keep your ass out of trouble?”

“Alright. I get it, you’re just a regular stand up guy, right Skizzo?”

“Just trying to stay alive. Like everybody else.” He turns to leave. Something possesses him to make one more comment. “Hey. You do what you gotta do. At the end of the day? That’s all we got. Do you know what I’m saying?”

“I know what you’re saying, Skizzo.”

“Keep your radio close. I’ll be in touch.”

It’s a dangerous fucking plan. Could spell disaster for Lost Lake as a whole if he gets caught in Ripper territory. Nevermind whatever the hell he might find at the actual crash site. Still, it’ll help Boozer, might even be enough to save his life. And if he’s successful Lost Lake could have enough medical supplies to last them a while. 

Basically this entire thing hinges on Deacon not getting caught. He’s been stealthy before. He can do it again. Even if this might be the mission with the highest stakes. He’s gotta do it. Now that Skizzo’s put the idea in his head, anything is better than sticking around here.

It gives him something to do, which is what Deacon needs right now.

Even if this plan is stupidly dangerous.

Deacon spends some time fixing up his bike. He’ll have a long drive ahead of him if he’s going into Ripper territory. It’s about an hour before Skizzo calls him.

“You there, Deek?”

“Yeah, Skizzo. I’m here.”

“Y’know that business we were talking about. It’s gonna take me a bit. I gotta go check on security at the border with Iron Butte. Check on the Rippers there if you know what I mean.”

“Uh, no Skizzo, haven’t got a clue. Why don’t you spell it out for me?”

“Nice try smartass. Remember, I’m going out on a limb here. Don’t make me regret it. Anyway, I’ll be in touch real soon. In the meantime, make yourself useful around camp. Prove Iron Mike was right about you for a change.”

“Yeah, sure. Whatever you say. St. John out.”

After making the rounds and ensuring nothing else needs to be done around camp, Deacon heads off in the general direction of Iron Ridge. He hopes Skizzo will call on his way over there. He’s not disappointed.

“St. John, you there?” 

“Yeah, Skizzo, still here. Where else would I be?”

“Hey, no skin off my nose. That business we discussed? Let’s just say you should, uh, head out that way now.”

“Oh, you mean the border with the Rippers?”

“Very funny. I meant no such thing. All I said was, if you’re thinking about taking a ride. What do you drifters like to call it? Riding the open road? Now would be a good time to do it. You got me?”

“Yeah, Skizzo, like always, I got you. St. John out.”

He rides the final bit to the border. At least Skizzo’s done one thing right. There isn’t anyone at the border. 

“Skizzo, It’s St. John. I’m at the border.”

“You see any of my men around?”

“Nah, Skizzo, it’s clear. Look, how much time do I got?”

“Time? Time for what? All I know is I got a card game going on with a few of my guys. Couple of them maybe should be out on guard duty, but I’m letting that slide. If I had to guess, I’d say we’ll be playing all night.”

“So until morning, got it. Deacon out.”

_ Jesus, this indirect shit has gotten old fast. _


End file.
